


Hot Cocoa and Danish Twists

by toryson



Category: Ant-Man (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Ignoring The Post-Credits Scene, Mentions of Murder and Violence but Nothing Too Graphic, Post-AMATW, Slow Burn, This is Extremely Self Indulgent but Here We Are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2019-11-15 03:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 67,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18065597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toryson/pseuds/toryson
Summary: Life for the Antourage has settled into a smooth, stable routine. Business for X-Con is thriving, Scott and Hope have temporarily retired their suits and are spending a lot of quality time with their families, and Hank and Janet are still savoring their reunion. Naturally, though, nothing lasts forever, let alone peace and contentment, so when a new threat shakes San Francisco to its core, the Antourage are forced to step back into action. Complicating matters further is the compelling attraction between Kurt and Jenna Perry, the woman who is the key to tracking down and stopping the force behind the heinous crimes plaguing the city. Stopping a killer AND navigating feelings in one go is a recipe for chaos.





	1. Chapter 1

Jenna Perry sat at her desk, happily drumming away at her computer with nary a worry in the world. She was currently ensconced in her latest editing project: splicing together the raw footage of a semi-popular sitcom (the numbers weren’t fantastic, but they weren’t abysmal, either, which was reason enough to keep pumping out episodes and seasons) to create an episode fraught with poignancy wherein the main characters accosted each other due to a misunderstanding that served as the catalyst for the eruption of emotions between them. It was supposed to be dramatic, but also stir to the surface feelings long believed to have been squashed and stifled, and Jenna wanted to nail that. As per her job, she wanted to blend and weave together the idea of aesthetics and emotions, and use the music she was provided and shots and angles and cuts to create scenes that would make the audience _feel._ This was what she thrived at - putting aside the rimshot dialogue that was the meat of the contemporary television comedy and focusing on the plights of these characters, making them relatable and realistic. She wanted to yank the audience out of the mindset of this being a sitcom and transport them into a world rife and rich with real, vibrant, throbbing emotions. She wanted the audience to feel Sarah’s pain - to empathize with April’s frustrated and distraught tears - above all, she wanted to flesh out these characters and make them humans rather than mere vessels in which scripted lines and quips were carried out.

Being as good at this particular aspect of her job as she was required intense focus and concentration - which was what she was engaged in now. She sat at her computer, slightly hunched over, ignoring the notes pasted every which way (on which were scribbled reminders to see someone about sound or a particular shot or mention something about framing or the set), and staring intensely at her computer screen, lost in the world of April and Sarah and their emotional, tense conflict. Her headphones were plugged in so she could listen to their quavering and pitched voices, her eyes were glued to the screen so she could figure out what shot and cut would be best to utilize and focus on and how much of a punch it would pack, and her fingers fluttered across her keyboard and shuffled the mouse to and fro as she fiddled with the program that was installed on all editing computers.

Completely lost to everything else, absorbed completely in her work, she started when a big, broad, burly hand landed on her shoulder and yanked her out of her thick, cloying cloud of concentration. She swiveled around in her chair to see a coworker - the tall, broad-shouldered, paunchy man with an impassive face with features carved into it like stone who was in charge of supervising the ADR recording sessions - looming over her. She tugged a headphone out of an ear and offered him an expectant smile. “Hey, Charlie. What’s up?”

Charlie offered a brusque grunt. “Boss wants to see you in her office.” With that, he turned on his heel with a grace that was startling for a man of his stature, then clomped off briskly down the length of the rectangular, enclosed corridor that served as the editing bay (or the Production Bar, as it was referred to unofficially), and vanished through the door without another word.

“Right,” Jenna murmured. “Good talk.” She rose from her desk, indulged in the briefest of stretches, then yanked her headphones free from the computer and stuffed them into her pocket with a dangerous haphazardness that would undoubtedly have them knotting up in a fierce tangle and twist of cord. She returned to her computer to save her most recent edits, clicked out of the tab, then rattled in her password to log out of the system completely. This particular company that she worked for was exceptionally anal-retentive about maintaining privacy and preserving and protecting their footage, so such measures were the norm.

She shuffled down the corridor and eased her way out of the room, emerging into an entirely different world. She left the relative silence of the Production Bar behind her (the only noises that occupied the room were the rapidfire clicking and clacking of keys, steady and repetitive tapping of mice, and rare and hushed murmured bits of conversation) and entered a world teeming with noise. The din of the central hub of the studio - the heart, core, and center of the network - was immensely overwhelming and borderline deafening. People stormed and hustled and bustled to and fro, and barked orders back and forth, and answered phones, and chattered with one another like flocks of birds. Despite Jenna’s own propensity for chatter, emerging from the Production Bar into this flood of noise was jarring - comparable to rising from underwater or unplugging clogged ears.

Jenna ignored the noise and massive throng of working folk and navigated her way to the front office that was home to Ms. Amelia Ivy, the head of the network, well-known for her biting tongue and equally sharp intelligence, grinding work drive and ethic, and fiercely business-oriented attitude. Given the fact that she ran a major TV network and was responsible for the steady flow and production of a plethora of TV series and movies and documentaries, it was no wonder that she was so brusque and blunt. Her reputation was warranted, so individual meetings with her were nerve-wracking, and Jenna couldn’t help but feel worry spike her pulse as she approached the freshly-varnished wooden door with the silver plate welded onto it. Inscribed on the silver plate, in big and bold and intimidating black font, was her name - ‘Amelia Ivy.’

Jenna stood in front of the door for a moment, allowing herself just a couple of seconds to steel her nerves. _Take a deep breath,_ she told herself, then proceeded to do so. _And chill._ Those few seconds were all she took to gather herself before promptly rapping on the door, because she knew how Amelia felt about slackers or lingerers or people who wasted time in general. All too aware of the thrumming thud of her heartbeat, Jenna tried to think of anything she might’ve done that would be considered a fireable offense, or warranted occupational probation, but nothing sprang to mind and that, in turn, made the whole idea of meeting with Amelia even more disconcerting. One could never be certain of anything - especially when it came to Ivy.

“Come in,” Amelia’s muffled voice sounded, curt and brisk, shattering Jenna’s anxious reverie.

She obliged, and stepped into a deeply impersonal office. The walls were painted a cold, slate gray, and devoid of any personal memorabilia whatsoever: no photographs, no posters, no certificates, nothing that offered any information or personal insight. Her desk was enormous and pristine and bore only her computer, a landline phone, and a wire jar stuffed with pencils, and the two chairs pushed in front of it looked as if they’d just been delivered by some furniture store ten minutes prior and had only been used as a seat once or twice. The bookshelf towering behind Amelia was crowded with volumes with fancy, ornate leather binding that appeared not to have been touched, let alone opened, in decades. The whole place just had a thick, cloying veil of temporariness, as if Amelia had arranged it this way so she could up and disappear and leave everything behind in a state of perfunctory, objective organization within a moment’s notice.

Amelia sat behind her desk, dressed sharply in high-waisted black slacks and a light blue button-up with the sleeves shoved up to the creases in her elbows. Her thick, curly mane of black hair framed her sharp, angular face, and her brown eyes in that face were just as keen, and ablaze (as they always seemed to be).

Jenna resisted the urge to nervously swallow when that gaze was turned on her and instead took a seat in one of the two chairs in front of the desk. She instinctively clasped her hands together, letting her fingers nervously knot and entangle and work and worry at one another. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yeah. You can relax, though,” Amelia said, waving a hand dismissively, looking distracted even as her gaze pierced right through Jenna. “It’s nothing bad. You’re doing fine. I just needed to see if you’d be willing to run an errand for me.”

 _Thank god._ The relief surged over Jenna, and she nodded eagerly, knowing she’d built up this whole meeting in her head but knowing it had some basis in reality, given what had happened to a decent, hard-working intern a few months back and their abrupt (and brutal) firing due to a minor slip-up. To have her fears alleviated was a massive weight off of her shoulders.

“Good.” Amelia straightened. “So, the assholes we originally hired to secure our comps and give us programs that’d make Kevin Witnick wary upped their prices for software that’s actually a piece of shit that anyone with the time, diligence, and want could override.” She snorted in disgust, and sat back in her chair, and let her fingers drum against the wooden surface of her desk. “So we axed them. What I need you to do is, on your lunch break, take some time to scour the city. See if you can’t find anybody to replace them - and by ‘anybody,’ I mean actual, authentic people who’ll deliver on their promises and give us something worthwhile.”

Jenna sat back in her chair, still loose and limp with relief that she wouldn’t be going home unemployed. “I can do that.” Hell, she’d relish a chance to stretch her legs and meander around the city for awhile.

Amelia nodded. “Good.” She plucked a pen from her jar and fiddled with it with her long, nimble fingers, clearly restless and hating to be idle and concentrating on one chore at a time when she preferred to tackle a thousand tasks in one fell swoop. “Go ahead and take an hour instead of a half, then. I hate to do that - but I’m sure you’re not complaining,” She said, smiling wryly at Jenna, who couldn’t bite back a sheepish grin because, yes, she definitely enjoyed her lunch breaks. “And we need a new service pronto. I’d rather not risk going without for any stretch of time.”

“Yeah,” Jenna said. Given the general atmospheric paranoia of the company, it made sense. “I’ll leave right at twelve and let you know what I found when I get back.”

“Perfect.” With that, Amelia made it clear that was the end of the conversation - she reached for her phone with one hand, and punched at the buttons with the end of the pen she was still fiddling with in the other, and lost herself in other tasks, leaving Jenna free to rise and slip out of the office and close the door with a quiet click behind her.

She sank against it for a moment, heaving a sigh and allowing herself to grin a goofy, relieved, happy grin - then straightening and heading right back to the Production Bar to get a few more minutes of the show done before taking off on her assigned adventure.

* * *

 It felt like no sooner had she sat back down at her desk, plugged in her credentials, and was just delving back into her work than the afternoon rolled around. She was jarred by the buzzing vibration of her phone wedged in the pocket of her slacks - she’d set an alarm, just in case - and quickly snapped into action. She killed the alarm, did everything she needed to to officially log out of the system, then rose and swept out of the Production Bar.

She snaked her way between the other various offices and cubicles and spaces that composed the main hub of the studio, and ducked out of the building, emerging into the warm, balmy air with a smile, enjoying the way the soft, gentle sunshine washed over her. She allowed herself a moment to enjoy the day before setting off briskly towards the parking lot, where her cozy, tiny, dark-green sedan was parked.

The first thing she would do, Jenna decided as she slipped into her car, would be to make a list of contenders. She reached over to flip open her glove box and fish out the small pad of sticky notes she kept handy just in case, balanced it on her thigh, fumbled around for a pen, then used her free hand to thumb through the pages of search results for ‘cyber security consultants.’ Phones were good and handy, but she preferred to write stuff down - it would stick better - so each potentially viable place was scribbled down on the notepad balanced precariously on her leg.

After about fifteen minutes of browsing, Jenna glanced at the names and addresses scrawled on her pad, and figured she’d made as extensive of a list as she could. She could very easily just call them all on the phone and make her decision from there, but - no, Amelia had sought her specifically for the job, and she wanted to do it right and see it through. Granted, she had no idea why Amelia had chosen her, but she wanted to ensure that she wouldn’t regret it.

So, with her list in her lap and her first destination in mind, Jenna cranked on the radio and flipped it to her favorite station that blasted an array of funky tunes (contemporary and ‘old’), and peeled out of the studio lot with her windows rolled down - the day was much too nice to waste cooped up in her car. She popped her arm out of the window to tip the man enclosed in the security box who was responsible for allowing or denying access to the studio and the lots, sets, and sound stages that occupied the massive property, a wave. He nodded at her before returning to his paper. Jenna slid her arm back into the car, flipped on her turn signal, hummed along to the song now crooning through her speakers, and made a right and melded smoothly into the throng of California traffic.

The first couple of stops were a bust. She discovered that TechCo and InfoTech had both drowned in the black and had gone out of business a couple of months ago (as evidenced by their most recent listed locations being taken over by restaurants), and that CompCounselors, as promising as the name had sounded, proved to be a place that focused on repairs and general IT services and didn’t offer anything that would fit the scope of what Jenna’s work needed.

So on she drove, listening to music, crossing names off of her list and eliminating businesses as she went, winding and making her way through San Francisco. FixIt N’ Go was of the same caliber as CompCounselors, and there were a few other odds and ends places that initially seemed likely but proved to be busts. One of them - Tech Squad - did seem to be a promising exception, though, so she circled the name and wrote a question mark next to it, but decided that she’d return once she’d finished checking out the last of her sources - a security consultant place tucked on Leavenworth Street and cozied up with a plethora of other small businesses, some independent firm called X-Con.

Located in the heart of the city, where everything was condensely packed, meant hunting for a parking spot somewhere along the thinly compressed streets. She cruised around, searching, but as time ticked by, she was sorely tempted to just give up and pay whatever toll necessary to secure a spot in a parking garage, but she lucked out at the last minute. She turned a corner, saw someone peel out, and spent the next five minutes meticulously parallel parking because the last thing she wanted to do was wreak havoc on someone’s car and put a damper on someone’s day and shell out some money to pay for damages.

Lo and behold, she did a decent job, sandwiching her sedan nicely between the two flashier vehicles bookending it. Once she was settled, Jenna slipped out of her car and hustled down the street, following the directions as offered by her digital map on her phone. When she reached the spot where the little pin told her was her destination, she looked up to see a neon sign (with a lock acting as the ‘o’ - that made her grin; she liked that) extending from the side of a stacked building, telling her she was in the right place, and advertising the business as specializing in, amongst other things, ‘access control.’ That seemed promising, so she slipped into the small alleyway leading to a set of stairs, off of which were several doors that lead to the businesses underneath the one she was aiming for. She trotted up the stairs, very conscientious of the time, and thinking about whether or not she’d be able to slip back to Tech Squad if this place proved to be a bust (given her track record, she wasn’t allowing herself to hope too much, but she wasn’t going to discourage herself, either).

Jenna arrived at a small hallway at the top of the stairs, winded - strength was her forte, not cardio, and her heart was galloping - so she took a minute to compose herself. She took the minute or so to compose herself and study her surroundings -  her left was a big glass window with the name of the company plastered to it, offering her a glimpse into a small but cozy enough office space. She moved past the window once she was certain she’d be able to talk without huffing and puffing, and entered the place, her arrival marked by the soft, silvery tinkling and jingling of bells overhead.

The office was bigger than she’d anticipated - it was a large, roomy, square-shaped spot, with desks aligned on the furthest wall, next to the windows, and one sitting at the front of the room. She peered around and spotted more than a few display cases - one in the middle of the room, two pressed against the walls - all housing a variety of goodies, and behind the front desk were a plethora of locks and other electronic knickknacks she couldn’t name but figured were efficient in preventing burglaries and keeping people safe. The best part of the whole place, though, was, without a doubt, the fancy fish tank in the corner of the room, surrounded by plush comfy leather seats arranged in a mockup of a waiting room. Seeing that - and all of the plants and various underwater decor and the plethora of gold and white fish swimming happily about - made her grin, and she decided, on a whim, that she liked this place.

Her exam was interrupted, though - the man at the front, a portly man with a face somehow both square and round, stood up and offered her a bright, easygoing grin. “Hey!” He greeted, as if he wasn’t welcoming a customer but a friend, and she decided that she liked that, too. “Welcome to X-Con Security Consultants, ma’am! How can we help you?”

Jenna returned his sunny grin - it was infectious. “Hi,” She greeted. “First off, I just wanna say that that’s a snazzy fish tank.” She gestured behind her to the burbling tank with a thumb. “I like it.”

“Hey, thanks! I knew that was a good thing to invest in.” The man - the nameplate on his desk declared him to be ‘Luis’ - offered an even wider, sunnier grin and she marveled at how sore his face must be after just a single day of living. The muscles in his cheeks were probably buff. That thought made her want to laugh but she bit down on the inside of her lip to suppress it.

The man nearest him, a lanky dude with a buzzed head, scoffed. “ _Your_ investment. Right.”

“What?” Luis frowned at him. “I bought it.”

“You bought the _tank,_ yeah, _”_ The man leaning back in his chair corrected shrewdly. “But I bought all the cool shit that makes it their home. And I bought the actual fish, man!”

“Hey!” Luis pointed a finger at him, looking comically stern. “Don’t bring them into this, Dave. We agreed we’d both have custody, man, so don’t hold that over me.”

Jenna stared at the scene unfolding before her, unable to keep from gawping in amusement. As unprofessional as two security consultants bickering about fish was, it was immensely, massively endearing, and she found herself warming up to them tremendously. That, paired with the cozy, lax, comfortable atmosphere of the place, was immensely preferable to the stuffy spot she’d visited prior, with the condescendingly snooty ‘upper-crust’ echelon of tech folk who believed they were so due to their knowledge. These guys, though, were clearly very different - they were _themselves_ , and she liked that enormously.

A third voice interjected, snagging Jenna’s attention, and she glanced at the man sitting nearest the fish tank. He was a lean, scruffy-looking fellow with a fine growth of stubble and fluffy, ruffled hair. He stood and offered her an apologetic grimace. “They could go on like this for hours,” He said, gesticulating to the squabbling duo. “What can we do for you?”

“Right, right.” Jenna turned away from the show Luis and Dave were engaging in - the All-Important Fish Debate - and flashed a smile at the man who’d approached her. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a fourth dude - someone sporting an impressive mane of coifed black hair and a pair of ‘burns reminiscent of Elvis - but quickly focused on the task at hand. As much as she liked it here, and as much as she enjoyed the people even though she’d only been around them for a couple of minutes, max, she couldn’t get distracted. “Hi, I'm Jenna, and I’m an editor for this TV station, and the last security people we hired to protect our computers kinda screwed us over. We need something high-tech, something that’s capable of protecting a lot of fancy computers with a lot of fancy programs, and keeping all of the info on them safe and secure.”

The scruffy man listened, considered, then nodded. “Then you’re probably going to want to talk to our resident computer wizard, then.” He turned. “Hey, Kurt!”

The man with the impressive ‘do turned, and for a moment Jenna was taken aback - jolted, practically - by how familiar he looked. There was something striking about him - maybe it was the hair so meticulously styled, maybe it was his stoic gaze with eyes that were sharp and dark and observant, maybe it was the tattoos adorning his hands (she couldn’t help but notice them; he’d been whaling away on his keyboard, and his fingers were long and slender and a few of them were home to small tats, whereas the back of one of his hands was covered completely in an intricate design).

She shook herself out of whatever weird, dreamy reverie she’d been ensnared in - hey, it was reasonable, the guy was cute, and that had thrown her off track - only for her to realize the scruffy man had taken his seat (apparently deeming his role as introducer complete), and the computer wizard was looking at her with polite expectancy.

She approached him and flashed him a grin, determined not to let herself get distracted like that again. “Hi,” She said.

“Hello,” He returned, then extended a hand. “Take seat. Please.” His voice was thickly accented, but quiet.

She looked around and didn’t see any place she could park herself, until her gaze roved over one of the folding chairs by the scruffy man’s desk. He nodded when she looked at him inquisitively, so she thanked him, nabbed the chair, swung it right up alongside Kurt’s desk, and plopped herself down into it. She leaned back, clasped her hands loosely together on her lap, and smiled once more at the pompadour-sporting man before introducing herself and launching into a reworded summary of everything she’d told the other guy.

Kurt listened attentively, his gaze boring into hers, and she ignored the way that the eye contact sent little thrills of heat pulsating through her nerves and instead focused on his questions. He asked her about the computers - make, model, functionality, brand - and quickly typed out everything she said down on a blank document on his computer. She watched his fingers fly deftly and nimbly over the keys, and when they paused, she looked up to meet his gaze again, and once more that little zap of electricity wriggled between them. He asked her about the studio’s history with cyber security, and she scrounged through her memory banks for a minute before telling him all she could remember about the company that had promised quality and value and instead had delivered exorbitant prices and cheapness.

“We’re trying to switch it up,” Jenna said, while actively trying to quiet the part of her mind that kept chiming in with a range of intrusive thoughts that made her hyperaware of the evident crush developing, “Because that company didn’t deliver. I don’t think they installed or used any malware or hurt anything, but they really didn’t _help_ , either. So my boss canned them, and now we’re without any sort of protection, and we need to fix that, ASAP.” Jenna trailed off and shrugged, leaning back in her seat, watching Kurt consider and mull everything she’d said over. She’d been right about her earlier observation - he was quiet, but attentive, and observant, and when she talked, she felt listened to. That was nice. As was their proximity, which she’d become conscientious of when she’d shifted and felt the pressure of his knee against hers. They were sitting close - closer than what was probably the norm for client and service provider - and were enshrouded in their own little bubble of solitude.

Which was nice. It was nice to feel that spark - that hot little wriggle of something in her chest and gut whenever their knees touched or his gaze bored into hers. It was nice to let herself indulge in feelings like this.

 _But you’re not here to flirt,_ she reminded herself, so she quickly derailed that train of thought and instead zeroed back in on what Kurt was saying.

“I think,” He said, drawing her out of her thoughts completely. He leaned back in his chair, their eyes met again, and once more there was that little clap of tension. He floundered for a moment, then cleared his throat and continued. “It would be best and beneficial if I see and get feel for what I will be working with.” He paused, then tacked on quickly, “Might be.”

Jenna offered him a wide smile. Going beyond the scope of whatever bias was forming as an extension of her apparent crush, she liked the guy. He knew what he was talking about and clearly had plenty of experience under his belt - enough so as to earn the nickname of computer wizard - and all of it qualified as great and viable credentials to her. “I’d stick with that ‘will be,’” She suggested lightly, and he smiled at her.

 _Good lord,_ Jenna thought upon seeing that smile and feeling her heart flutter as another lull of silence fell between them. _So much for focusing._ She quickly shifted in her chair, though, breaking the momentary silence. “Do you think there’s a better way to protect our stuff than what the last people offered?”

Kurt snorted almost derisively and nodded. “Yes, absolutely. They went with bare-minimum program. Probably to save on expenses. But option they chose -” He shook his head. “Not ideal for protecting as many - and as fancy - computers as your work has. I can think of others, but I would prefer to see and study set-up before diagnosing.”

Jenna nodded. That all sounded reasonable. “Yeah, that sounds great.” He slid a small notepad and a pen her way, and when she reached for them, their fingers brushed, and Jenna quickly focused on scribbling down her address, though she could hardly suppress her grin. She felt all...hot and bubbly and fizzy, like a violently shaken carbonated soda. It was an interesting - new - vibrant feeling that had her nerves tingling. She jotted down the workplace address and hours where visitors could stop by (tours were an efficient way to make some extra cash), then paused, and scribbled down her personal cell number underneath all of that. “If you have any questions or anything like that,” She said as she wrote, keeping her gaze fixed on the paper, “You can reach me….here.” She finished, set the pen down, and poked at her number before sliding the pad back to him and meeting his eyes again.

Looking at him, though, brought back that surge of familiarity, and as he took the pad back and studied it, she cocked her head to the side. Beyond all that weird, interesting chemistry bubbling between them, she could’ve sworn she’d seen him from somewhere - and then it hit her, and she snapped her fingers and grinned as it clicked in her head. He looked up at her, brows quirked.

She offered a sheepish smile and internally marveled at the fact that Kurt wasn’t shying away from her or looking at her oddly. “Sorry, I was just - when I came in and saw you, you looked awfully familiar, and I was trying to place you - but it just hit me. You got interviewed on Channel 7 last year, right? After the whole crime ring thing went down?”

That brought a small, wry grin onto his face - one that made her heart shiver a little bit. “Yeah. That was me.”

Jenna sat back in her chair, relieved to have finally nailed it and satiated that seed of curiosity. “God, you would think I would’ve remembered that. I was at work when they aired the footage, and I distinctly remember thinking - ‘wow, that guy has incredible hair.’”

Kurt laughed at that, and his chuckle was throaty. He ducked his head. “At this point,” He said, tilting his head up and flashing that wry little grin at her. “I am more known for hair than job.”

Jenna couldn’t help laughing at that, too. “Hey,” She said lightheartedly, pairing it with a gentle nudge to his arm with her elbow - not expecting it until she was actually doing it. Clearly there was some misalignment between her brain and the rest of her body. “There are definitely worse things to be known for.”

“That is true,” He assented, smiling at her, and for the third time in however many minutes that she’d been here, they just looked at each other and smiled and it was doofy and ridiculous but it felt organic, too, and comfortable, and she knew there was no reason for it, but...god, was it _nice_ \- and that voice in her head chimed in again, poking fun at her for being so susceptible to distraction, but just as abruptly that voice switched gears and wondered what it’d be like to comb her fingers through that fluffy, silky mane of hair -

“....Twenty to one,” someone said, and their voice pierced the dizzying fog of chemistry, and Jenna snapped back into sharpened focus - thankfully dissolving those embarrassingly moony thoughts.

“Wait, what? Is that what time it is?” She asked, voice spiked with panic - she fumbled for her phone and verified that, yes, she only had twenty minutes to get back to work, and it was at least a thirty minute drive, excluding traffic. “Oh - my god. Okay. Wow. I gotta go.” She sprung to her feet, flustered by the way time had just spun away from her in a whirlwind, no longer calm and cool and collected and enjoying basking in whatever energy she and Kurt had been sucked up into but now fervent with nervous energy. “I - yeah, gotta get back to work. Thank you guys,” She said, addressing the comment to the whole room, even as she looked at Kurt. “And, hey, just let me know whenever would be best for you to come to the studio. As soon as possible would be awesome -” She was rambling now, and she knew it; she could feel her tongue all loose and unraveling. So she cut herself off, flashed another grin, turned to leave, stumbled promptly over her chair, caught herself on the edge of the display case in the middle of the office, flustered but laughed it off, then headed to the door, bumped against the frame and ricocheted off and into the hall, and quickly vanished down the hallway, inwardly cursing herself and swearing but also still bubbling over that weird energy that left her feeling all fuzzy and warm but also losing herself in the rush to get back to her car and haul ass back to work.

Kurt watched her go, then looked back down at the pad and her slanting, quick handwriting, and smiled, but it vanished as soon as he looked up and saw Dave leaning back in his chair, peering around his computer and grinning at him with quirked eyebrows. “ _Damn_ , Kurt,” He said with a growing, mischievous smirk.

Kurt shot him a significant, pointed look. “No,” He said firmly, knowing precisely what his grin and that glint in his eyes meant.

“Dude,” Luis said from where he sat behind his desk, turning his huge, sly smile on Kurt.“You’re, like, a male peacock or some shit like that. It’s gotta be the hair. Y’know, it captivates people, like - like male peacocks when they’re showing off.” He held his hands up behind his head and splayed his fingers like the aforementioned preening bird. “And it definitely worked on her, man.”

“What?” Kurt sat back in his chair, still frowning, trying to ignore the waves of embarrassment beginning to rise in his stomach and flood into his chest and throat and face. “No. Stop it. She was….nice, yes, but she is customer. This is inappropriate. Leave it alone.”

He turned his attention forcefully back to his computer, and on the notes he’d taken, and ignored the smug, teasing, implicative glances the guys around him shot and exchanged. He looked down at the pad, though, at her writing, and remembered how she’d stumbled and bounced out of the room, and how she’d grinned at him, and how when they’d occasionally touched - when their knees had been pressed together, and their fingertips had grazed when he’d passed her the notepad and she’d returned it, there’d been electricity, and speaking with her had felt comfortable and organic despite the distance at which he generally tended to keep himself from people, on principle. It was….new, and interesting, but he had to shake it off and get back to work.

And so he did - fighting back a smile that twitched at his lips and threatened to overwhelm him; a smile that mirrored Jenna’s as she slid into her sedan and zipped away back to her own job.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Kurt's backstory and his sales pitch come from Dave Dastmalchian. Everything else - his family, origin, stuff like that - is my interpretation.

Jenna sat back in her seat and combed both hands through her hair, shoving her dark brown locks back away from her face. She glanced at the little digital clock on the corner of the digital display, saw that she’d been working overtime for the past two hours, and allowed her tense, taut body to loosen and relax and slump. Her eyes were strained, and her fingers and hands and wrists were cramped up from her constant manipulation of the computer program, and her back and neck and shoulders were twitching painfully from having been hunched over, and there was a small headache thrumming behind her forehead.

Still, though, she’d finally finished up with the episode she’d been worrying on like a dog on a bone, and all her aches and pains couldn’t beat that immense satisfaction. Sitting back in her chair, she couldn’t help grinning at her screen, brimming and bubbling over with accomplishment. She leaned forward to save her progress and log out of the system, but as she was typing in her password (wincing as the joints in her sore, stiffened fingers creaked in the process), the door to the Production Bar popped open.

Jenna glanced up, brows raised - startled to see anyone still lingering in the studios after-hours. Only the editors were prone to working late, and she and one other woman were the only ones occupying the editing room, so seeing the vaguely-familiar face of an intern peering into the space was a surprise.

The intern caught sight of Jenna and offered no smile - clearly worn out - and instead just wearily chuffed “Hey, there’s someone here to see you, Ms. Perry” before backing right out of the room, clearly in a driven rush and hurry to leave, which Jenna didn’t blame her for one bit.

 _Ms. Perry,_ Jenna thought, then realized how weird that sounded, and made a mental note to see if she couldn’t reach out and have them refer to her as something else because that sounded weirdly stifling but also made her grin because nobody really referred to her as such, and she appreciated the polite cordiality and respect but it was just _weird_ to consider herself as a ‘Ms.’ She derailed that train of thought, though, and instead succumbed to her curiosity - she didn’t get visitors. At all. Not even her closest friend, a neighbor whom she’d gotten cozy and comfy with, sprung surprise visits on her.

So she finished logging out, rose from her chair, and exited the Production Bar, only to see the intern leaving in a flustered hurry from their cubicle, jacket tucked over their arm and keys dangling and jangling noisily in their hand. The intern tipped her a nod, she returned it (paired with a smile), then scanned the room and realized that she wasn’t, in fact, alone.

Kurt stood at by the wide-set double doors leading into the studio, hands tucked in the pockets of dark jeans, wearing a jacket with the collar popped up but unzipped to reveal a patterned polyester shirt beneath it. And, of course, his hair was perfectly coifed in that wave of thick black hair that was clearly a telltale trademark of his.

His gaze bounced around the studio, but came to land on her, and he offered her a smile - not one as wide and unabashed as her own, but a small, reserved, composed one that was undoubtedly his, and she decided she liked that curve of his mouth all the same.

“Hey,” Jenna said, crossing the room, interrupting her own rambling stream of admiration and mooning, wanting to focus on the fact that he was here for work and nothing more. “Good to see you again. Thanks for coming.”

He offered her another smile and a shrug of his shoulders - over which was strapped a laptop bag. “It is my job,” He said simply - straightforwardly.

Jenna nodded. She liked his brusqueness. “Right you are.”

Kurt paused, and she noticed he looked like he had a thought bubbling and brewing in his head, and when he spoke, she felt all warm and tingly. “Good seeing you, too,” He returned in a voice hardly higher than a murmur.

Jenna grinned at that. “Good, I was worried you felt obligated to ‘like’ me ‘cause I’m employing you,” She teased, then turned on her heel and set off back towards the Production Bar lest she say anything stupid, because she knew she was prone to doing so, so she settled for silence, instead, which was perfectly fine, because as he followed suit and there was only the gentle thud of their shoes moving over the thickly carpeted floor, it was comfortable, and not rife with awkwardness as Jenna had briefly worried about. She popped open the door to the editing bay, thrust a ‘wait’ finger in Kurt’s direction, then poked her head inside the room and rapped on the inner wall.

The woman at the furthest end of the bay - Kim -  lifted her head. “Hey,” Jenna said. “Our new security service dude is here. Do you mind if he comes in and takes a peek around?”

Kim shook her head and disappeared back into her work.

Jenna smiled - most editors didn’t tend to be chatty - then stepped aside and gesticulated for Kurt to step right on in.

He did, and took one look at the massive, impressive sprawl of high-tech computers and whistled appreciatively. “This _is_ fancy display.”

Jenna laughed, enjoying the way his gaze roved over the computers and the way he seemed eager to get at them and explore them and get to know them. “Yeah,” She said, leaning against the doorway. “It is. The boss wants to protect them, but also the content and footage and stuff on them, too, so we need something all-encompassing.”

Kurt nodded, wandering down a row of computers, occasionally brushing his fingers over the keyboards and stopping to nudge the computers around on their swiveling necks and peer at the backs, and looking for (presumably) any exterior marks or data that would give him more information. He paused at a computer, and looked in Jenna’s direction. “Can I -?” He nodded his head at the online display requiring access.

“Oh, yeah, that’d probably help.” Jenna chuffed laughter at herself before shoving off of the wall and heading towards him. She stopped within prime close proximity, well aware of their brushing arms, and leaned over to drum in her information. The briefest, most fleeting of thoughts darted across her mind - how ironic this was, wanting to prevent unwanted access by supplying access to someone outside of the company - but she dismissed it, because it was nothing more than the company seeping into her head. She liked Kurt, she trusted Kurt, and she was going to stand by that firm feeling in her gut.

She finished logging in, then stepped back to let - and watch - him work.

Small talk was not his thing - he’d get along splendidly here, she couldn’t help thinking - and that was totally fine, because Jenna was perfectly comfortable leaning back against the wall while he worked. Standing and leaning enabled her stiffened back to unwind and relax, so it was comfortable, and she’d been listening to filmed chatter for the past few hours, so the silence was welcome.

She was distracted by the sound of chair wheels squeaking, and she looked up to see Kim standing and gathering her things. “Have a good night,” Jenna said, and received a smile in return before Kim swept out of sight, and that was fine, she knew that was how she was, and she felt good by just cajoling a smile out of her.

And then it hit her. The intern had rushed home, as had Kim, and, beyond the night shift security guard, it was just her - and Kurt - alone on this big, massive, sprawling property. The little part of her that had a wriggling little crush on him delighted in that, but she squashed - stifled - that. Now was no time to be ridiculous - in fact, this whole one-sided mooning thing was ridiculous. She didn’t want to preoccupy herself with thoughts of how much she liked his small grin or those deep dark eyes or his hands or - _nope,_ Jenna promptly, and firmly, chastised herself, reigning it in. _Stop that. Calm down. Focus._

She zeroed back into the present, dismissing the thoughts that clung and wanted to linger, and instead preoccupied herself by asking him what his plan was.

He scoured through the software as he talked - he had a good list of programs at hand that he had hypothesized would work, and doing this would enable him to verify the best fit. “I can’t promise,” He warned as he flipped through the system. “That it will be cheap, but I can guarantee it will be worth the price.”

Jenna nodded. “So long as we’re getting all the bang for our buck, that oughta be fine.” She stood there for a moment more, not wanting to disrupt him - but her unraveled tongue flapped anyways. “So, X-Con. Where’d that name come from?”

Kurt paused, and for a moment she thought she’d thrown him off track, but then his fingers continued soaring over the keyboard. He spoke tentatively, though - slowly, warily. “We are all ex-cons.”

Jenna blinked. “Oh. Well. That would make a whole lotta sense, then,” She said, grinning. She was intrigued by that, but she didn’t want to prod or pry - and this time she was able to restrain her tongue and keep it from making her overstep any boundaries.

He volunteered the information, though. “We are good at security because we all know what we are doing.” He turned his head and smiled wryly at her. “We have plenty of onhand experience. So why not use it to advantage and make profitable business to help others? And,” He added, almost as an afterthought, but with a tinge of pride in his voice, as if it was something he’d been thinking about for awhile, “Who best to protect people from getting burgled than the best burglars? And who best to protect from hacking than the best hacker?”

Jenna saw how proud he was of that, as evidenced by his barely-suppressed grin - and felt her heart flutter again. Outwardly, she laughed - and added, when he looked at her, “That’s a very good point. Good marketing, too. Hell, if I hadn’t already hired you guys, that would’ve sold me.”

Kurt, facing the computer again, smiled.

Jenna fully anticipated another lull of silence and was shifting back into her position against the wall, absently wondering if her just standing here while he worked was weird, when he spoke again. “You are editor, right?”

“Yep,” Jenna replied cheerfully. “Been here for a couple of years. It’s not too shabby - the boss is….scary sometimes, but, hey, the people are nice, and I like what I do and I’d like to think I’m pretty damn good at it.” She grinned, but her smile softened as she said, “So it’s a pretty good gig.” She’d definitely lucked out, and talking about it made her feel all warm and bubbly with how fortunate she’d been. But she let that dissolve, and instead turned the conversation back on Kurt. “What about you? How’s the business-slash-security world?”

Kurt fished a paper filled with names out of his bag and set it aside, by the keyboard. “Good. I like being actual businessman.” He smiled as he scanned the list, finger following his eyes. “It’s nice, doing things _legally._ ” That wry, coy smile winked across his face again as he slipped a pen out of the breast pocket of his button-up and jotted notes down on his piece of paper. “And working with friends, too.”

Jenna grinned at that. She’d felt the vibe - especially just basing it off of that debate between Luis and Dave - and figured it was a good, solid, fun workplace, which was definitely a rarity, given the lack of ‘work’ and ‘fun’ being synonymous. She was assuming, of course, and basing it all off of a ‘vibe’ but it rang true nevertheless.“Yeah, I bet.” She paused, then added with a grin of her own, “And I can honestly say, I went bouncing all over the city looking for different security businesses yesterday, and...yeah, it was rough. So I’m glad I stumbled across you guys. And I know nothing’s been actually done yet, and feel free to call me biased, but I think I’m going to have to give you a solid ten outta ten.”

Kurt glanced at her, brow raised. “Biased?”

Jenna blanked for a minute - then it hit her. _Oh, shit._ He wouldn’t know her bias because he didn’t know that she liked him. Just thinking that made her want to snort sardonic laughter - something about this whole thing felt so….elementary; what was she gonna do next, scribble down on a note ‘I like you, do you like me?’ and tell him to check the ‘yes’ or ‘no’ box?  - but she just flashed a smile and improvised. “Yeah. I’m emotionally attached to the fish in that tank in your office, and I wanna make sure you guys can keep making money so they can keep getting food and stuff.”

Kurt laughed at that - that throaty chuckle she’d heard yesterday - and nodded. “Don’t blame you,” He said. “Sometimes, I think Dave and Luis stay together only for fish.”

She laughed, too, and they both chuckled, and the sounds melded together. It was nice - hearing something other than the use and manipulation of machinery ring around the enclosed space - and she enjoyed it, immensely.

Kurt sat back in his seat once his laughter tapered off and tapped the sheet with his pen. She sidled up to peer over his shoulder at it. “These,” He said, motioning with the tip of the pen to a couple of names he’d circled, “Will be best bet to ensure protection. I personally recommend this,” He said, letting the pen point out his choice. “But other two are good as well. Depends on you and price range.”

Jenna studied the list, hand planted on desk, ignoring their sudden closeness and instead electing to focus on the fact that - well, she didn’t recognize any of the programs. She relayed that to him. “What’s the difference?”

Kurt explained - prices varied, but the services were similar. It just depended on the extent of protection the company wanted.

“Well, we should probably go with the best one, then,” Jenna decided. She’d been given the responsibility of finding a good security source, and she’d done that, so she (recklessly) assumed she could shoulder the task of choosing the program, too. “If that’s what you think would be the smartest choice.” She paused, then turned her head to look at him, and their eyes met. She smirked. “I’m putting a lot of faith in you, Mr. Computer Wizard.”

Kurt grinned at that. “It is well-placed,” He promised. “I would like to keep your business. For the sake of the fish.”

Jenna laughed and nodded and pulled away upon realizing she’d been standing a mere inch away for far too long, and she backed against the wall. “When do you think you’ll be free to install the stuff?” She queried.

Kurt glanced at his wristwatch, then looked at her. “Tonight would work. If it is not too late.”

Jenna had already been at work for far too long, but in these instances, she found she didn’t care one bit. Hell, having the opportunity to spend more time with him being thrust right into her lap? She wasn’t going to complain one bit. “Yeah,” She said. “That’s perfect.”

“It might take some time,” He warned. “I will have to install on each computer individually.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I have the run of the place tonight, so no worries.” She tucked her hands in her pockets and, for the billionth time that night, her tongue blindsided her. “And, hey, while it’s loading, I can go ahead and give you a tour of the place - pull back the curtain and show you the magic of movie and tv-making.”

Kurt, who’d slipped his sheet of paper back into his bag, looked at her and grinned. “I would like that.”

Jenna ignored the way her heart sparked and returned his smile. Her cheeks were beginning to ache from the constant grinning, but she didn’t want to stop. “Awesome.”

So he started the process - beginning with the computer he was at, then moving to the next, and the one after that, until he’d swept through the whole Production Bar (Jenna in tow, because her credentials were required to give him access to the system), and set and cued everything up to apply firm, sturdy programming (“It is complex and boring enough to make people like me not even want to bother trying to get in,” He said at one point, grinning).

By the time he was done, the computers were beginning to whir and buzz, as the programs worked their way through the code. Kurt stood from the last computer and studied the screen for a moment, then turned to look at Jenna. “Okay,” He said. “We have about hour and half to kill.” He tucked his hands in his pockets and offered her a disarmingly charming smile. “Show me magic.”

For a second, dazed by the wider, opened grin, she was lost - and flustered - but then she snapped to. “Right! Yeah. Normally we’d charge, like, 30 bucks for admission for a tour, but ‘cause you’re doin’ this for us, and ‘cause I like your spiffy hair -” _And your smile, and your eyes, and how attentive and observant you are, and_ **_you -_ **Jenna quickly derailed that train of thought. “I’ll cut you a major deal. An individual, nighttime tour - for free.”

Kurt chuckled. “That sounds like great deal to me.”

Jenna grinned. “Good.” She fished in her pocket and yanked out her lanyard on which was attached her laminated ID and a key - only editors could lock and unlock and access the Production Bar. “Let’s get this show on the road, then.” She stepped out back into the hub - Kurt followed suit - then she turned to jimmy the key into the lock, twist it, and jiggle the handle to make sure it was closed up. As always, she had to take extra precautions.

“Well, you’ve already seen the editing room,” Jenna said as she turned to face him. She gestured absently to the rest of the office space sprawling out before them. “This is the hub. All of the business meetings and pitches and stuff like that happens here, so it’s always busy. Except for - y’know. Now.” She smiled, then it turned into a quick, excited grin. “And that’s all the boring stuff outta the way.”

Kurt listened, smiling, looking around at the wide spread and sprawl of cubicles and desks and office spaces.

She clapped her hands. “Alright. Now we can get to the fun stuff.” She moved towards one of the exits that led into the backlot home to a variety of massive studios and sets. She really wasn’t supposed to be doing this, but - hell, nobody would know. She slipped out the back door, holding it ajar for Kurt to duck through, and they emerged into the crisp, brisk night, with the sky dotted with the occasional twinkling star winking in the deep black looming overhead. “We’ve got a few movie sets assembled,” She said as she trotted down the cement steps leading to the immense walkway that split the enormous, rounded buildings where interior scenes were filmed and extended to the very edge of the studio property. “But those are way out back. Nothing too fancy. We spend most of our time shooting TV shows, ‘cause that’s what makes the big bucks, and movies are more of a….rare occasion kind of thing. We are currently filming a couple, though, so I think my boss is trying to branch out. Anyways,” She said, waving a hand as if to scatter those thoughts, then turned to face Kurt and gestured spectacularly to the buildings looming before them. “Here it is.”

“Here it is,” Kurt agreed, smiling at her enthusiasm. He looked out over the buildings. “Is each one for different show?”

Jenna considered. She mostly tended to stick to her spot of expertise, but staying in the loop and know was generally relatively important. “No. I think they film two or three per each…” She floundered for the word, then flapped her hand again. “Thing.” She paused, then laughed at herself. “As you can see, I’m clearly well-versed in all areas of my field. Anyways,” She said, divulging from that with a sheepish little smile. “Allow me to escort you around, give you the lay of the land.”

Kurt smiled and gestured with a hand. “Escort away.”

* * *

“Ooh, ooh, okay,” Jenna blurted excitedly, turning to face Kurt, rubbing her hands together and beaming at him. “ _This_ is the best spot of the whole place. Y’know why?”

Kurt, hands still in his pockets, smiled. Her enthusiasm was infectious - bubbling - and incredibly endearing. “Why?”

They’d been walking around for some time, hopping in and out of buildings and sets, and Jenna had supplied him with a steady flow of information, and it had been cool to meander in and around places where TV shows were shot and filmed, but this one was clearly significant, and he wanted to know about it. He wanted to know why it was so special, ‘cause it made her grin, and her excitement was palpable, and that was great.

“‘Cause it’s the set for the show I’m working on.” Jenna beamed, and popped open the door, and Kurt slipped through into darkness - until Jenna followed suit, closed the door, and switched on the lights.

The fluorescents overhead buzzed and worked and blinked on, illuminating the room in a piercingly white glow, exposing the array of seats offered to the live studio audience who would be there to bear witness and engage in some hearty laughter when the time (and script) called for it, and the current assembled set, which was the bedroom of one of the protagonist’s - April’s - younger siblings. It was characteristically childish, complete with the two twin-sized beds, walls plastered in posters, desks cluttered with notebooks and closed computers and pencils, and a floor equally littered with crumpled clothes, toys, and books. A real, veritable, authentic mess, as assembled by the crew.

Jenna grinned, watching Kurt amble and pick his way through the set. “It’s, uh, a sitcom, but an emotional one. This is for a scene that’s set to be filmed tomorrow.” She climbed the steps leading from the lowered pit surrounding the stage onto the stage itself. “I dunno. I just think it’s pretty neat. All of this stuff is fake,” She plucked a notebook crammed with homework papers in it and thumbed through it, then set it back down (hopefully precisely where she found it - the people who assembled the set had a real knack for determining what was or wasn’t in the correct, accurate place). “But it feels real. Like kids should come busting in here any second. It’s exciting, y’know? Plus just the fact that I’m gonna be able to take all the stuff they film and make it a cohesive narrative…” Jenna shrugged, but her smile was genuine. “It’s just really cool. I, uh, have this friend who thinks I should be….’aiming higher’,” She quirked her fingers in quotes and rolled her eyes. “Like doing movies or something like that, but I really love this. I don’t really need or want to be a commercial film editor - for one, that’s an insane amount of pressure, and I like being independent like this. I have much more free reign and can be creative and - yeah. He’s not the sentimental or the creative type, so he doesn’t get it, but…” She trailed off, and shrugged.

Kurt nodded, standing in the middle of the room, looking around, hands in his pockets, then his gaze flitted attentively back to her. Jenna watched him for a moment, then moved to one of the beds and flopped down on it. If she crumpled the bedspread, she’d fix it, she promised herself - but they’d been walking for awhile and she wanted to just relax for a minute. “So,” She said, voice puncturing the comfortable silence. “I’ve been kinda talking about me and my work a whole lot. What about you, Kurt? What’s your story?” She hoped she wasn’t getting too personal, but...she was genuinely curious. She planted her hands on the bed and leaned back.

Kurt looked at her, then moved to sit on the other bed - checking before he did to make sure he didn’t squish or damage anything and clasped his hands loosely together, fingers fiddling with a ring on his right hand. “I’m from small town in Siberia,” He said. “Moved to America couple years after graduating college. Majored in computer science. Wanted to get away, experience something new.” He sat back, lost in recollection. “Fell in with wrong people who wanted to make money fast and promised me shortcut to ‘American dream.’” Now it was his turn to use air quotes, and he snorted sardonically. “I fell for it. We planned heist on jewelry store but it was major bust and we were all caught. Served some time in Folsom. Met Luis, met Dave through Luis, and we agreed to room together after sentences for convenience sake.” He shrugged. “When I was younger, I wanted to chase idea of American dream. Sounded nice. Money, freedom, parties. But I was naive. American dream,” He said astutely, and shrewdly, “Is farce. And now,” He finished, sounding thoughtful and musing, “Now I am happier than I think I ever would have been if other plan had succeeded. I have nine-to-five job with friends, an apartment I like, and am putting my skills to good use, and…” He trailed off, seeming to realize that he’d launched into a spiel that consisted of more words than he usually spoke on the norm - and considering that it was personal stuff, that was a hefty realization. “And life is good.” He finished, then shrugged, though he was suddenly incredibly conscientious of himself.

Jenna nodded, studying him for a moment - relieved he’d felt comfortable enough to share that kind of thing with her, and touched that he had in the first place. “Well, I’m sorry about the whole illegal escapade thing, but...otherwise, I’m glad it all worked out,” She said, voice soft, and when Kurt looked at her, she offered him a smile, and he returned it.

They sat there for a minute, on opposing beds, Jenna leaning back on her hands with her ankles crossed, Kurt sitting on the edge with his hands intertwined, and it was nice. It was nice, and easy, and organic, and made both of them tingle with nerves.

Until Kurt broke the gaze and tore his eyes away to check his watch and cleared his throat. “I think,” He said, amusedly, “Updates are done.”

That jarred her, and she slipped her phone out of her pocket, and saw that, indeed, at least two hours - maybe two and a half - had passed since they’d slipped out of the studio. Time really had this mystifying way of just melting away when she was with him, she couldn’t help but marvel - only momentarily, though, because he was right - it was getting late. “Wow, yeah, uh, we should probably go check on that.” She slid off of the bed and stood up and stretched briefly, and as they made their way off of the set (pausing to take just a moment or two to readjust and smoothen out the sheets that had crumpled when they’d sat on them), Jenna wanted to thank him for trusting her, because he didn’t come off as the kind of person to be able to open up like that, but she didn’t want to come across as sentimental or awkward - but her tongue was off and running before she could stop it. “And, hey, by the way, thanks for sharing,” She said. She felt stupid as soon as the words came tumbling out of her mouth.

He slipped past her out into the night, then looked back, and only nodded, his hands in his pockets, and she couldn’t see his eyes in the darkness but she knew he was looking at her. So, once more, her tongue flapped to lighten the thick tension that had fallen over them like a comforter - tension not unpleasant but rife with sizzling emotion. “And, hey, I’m gonna have to return the favor. Hope you can tolerate me giving you my life story in return,” She quipped, smiling up at him, not even knowing if he could see her but doing it anyways.

He chuckled at that as they set back off down the walkway, heading back to the hub. “I think I can bear that,” He returned, and she heard the teasing lilt in his voice, and, for some reason, that made her heart jolt, too, and she laughed, and together they talked about nothing as they swept back into the hub, and moved back to the Production Bar, and continued to talk as she unlocked the door and they came in to sleeping computers that, once jostled awake, had been installed with a new, fancy security program safe and secure enough to protect from any viable threat.

Jenna whistled appreciatively as Kurt walked around to perform some basic, follow-up checkups. “My boss is gonna be _thrilled,”_ She said with a huge, growing grin.

As Kurt finished his last lap around the computers and deemed them secure, he smiled. “That should be it,” He said.

Jenna nodded and ignored a tug of disappointment in her gut. That meant no more late-night visits like this - which had proven to be unbelievably fantastic. That was okay, though; it was an exception, not the rule, and she’d enjoyed herself immensely. “Alright, how much do we owe you?”

Kurt shook his head. “I have to write everything up. Time, labor, program I used per each computer - and then add up total costs. I will stop by tomorrow?” He offered, voice lilting into a question.

Jenna nodded. “Yeah, that sounds great.” She looked at the sea of computers spanning before her and realized she was going to have to log out of each one individually and suppressed a groan. She’d do that once he left, then bounce, herself. She turned to him. “Well, thank you, Kurt,” She said, grinning crookedly. “I’ll definitely be praising you to the moon and back when my boss asks, and expect a five-star review online.”

“For the benefit of the fish,” Kurt added.

Jenna laughed and nodded. “Yeah. For the fish.”

There was a moment wherein they lingered - there was really nothing left to say, but neither wanted the night to end, but there was no excuse to prolong it. Jenna reluctantly cleared her throat and turned to the computers. “I gotta log out and shut all of these down,” She said with a sigh, if just to break the silence, but then she had a miniature epiphany. “Hey, if you’re okay waiting around for a minute while I do that, and since I can’t pay you tonight, maybe I could thank you with some dinner.” She glanced at her phone again. “I’d say it’s about that time but it’s definitely a little past it.”

Kurt watched her move to the computers and start drumming away at the keys. “Yes,” He blurted when he realized he hadn’t spoken in a solid minute in response to her question. “Yes, that - dinner - would be nice.”

Jenna tipped him a grin. “Awesome.”

And it was.

* * *

 “Are you serious?”

“Dead,” Kurt said solemnly, nodding, a fry pinched between two slender fingers. “She could... walk through walls and appear out of nowhere. It was frightening.”

Jenna sat back in the teal vinyl booth of the small late-night diner joint she liked to frequent on nights she worked late, working at her burger, but staring at him incredulously. “So, you’re telling me,” She said slowly, “That some woman who could...teleport and phase through stuff was hunting you guys down?”

“Not us,” Kurt corrected, then popped his fry into his mouth, chewed, and washed it down with a swig of his soda. “Scott. He had something she wanted. But she did pay us surprise visit, yes.” He seemed to shiver at the memory. “It was as if Baba Yaga had become reality.”

Jenna paused, burger halfway to her mouth, eyebrows raised. “Baba Yaga? As in...John Wick?”

Kurt shook his head and snorted. “No. That movie is inaccurate. Baba Yaga is not vengeful vigilante. Baba Yaga is a _witch_.”

“Huh,” Jenna said curiously, contemplatively.

Kurt took another sip of his drink. “The guys like teasing me, but they did not grow up with my siblings.” He was opening up more and more, and Jenna loved it. Knowing that he felt that comfortable to be able to do so - it just made her feel unbelievably warm and fuzzy inside. “They were brutal. They liked to tell me worst stories. They would threaten to give me up to her when she came around in dead of night looking for children to eat.”

Jenna chuffed a soft, startled laugh, jarred from her reverie. “Your _siblings_ would tell you that?” Teasing of that caliber seemed par for the course, but not to that extent.

Kurt nodded. “Yes.” He frowned and plucked up another fry. “My brother would sit me down and tell me these stories, and my sister would sneak outside to rattle windows or bang stick against it to make it seem as if Baba Yaga was right outside my room. I would not sleep for hours after, but they just laughed.” He shook his head. “I don’t miss them.”

“I don’t blame you,” Jenna said softly, awed. “That’s...messed up.”

“That was life,” Kurt said simply, and shrugged. “And that was them.” Something about that statement made him smile - but it was a thin, pressed smile. “The Goreshters are not really sentimental bunch.”

Jenna nodded and fished a fry from her pile. “And when was the last time you saw them?”

Kurt thought for a moment. “Not for years. Brother left before I was out of primary school. Sister left when I was about to leave secondary school. We don’t keep in touch.”

Jenna nodded. She understood that, to an extent. She’d been born an only child, with a father who had never been in the picture, to a mother fraught with panic over raising a child. She’d grown up in a household with her mom and her aunt as a result of the former’s anxiety, and when her aunt had died in a car crash, it had strained and forced and pulled taut the relationship between Jenna and her mom. They were still cordial, but they lived eight hours apart and saw each other rarely, and contact was extremely minimal. Not the same circumstances, of course, but she could relate. She fished for another fry, opening the conversation up to elaboration, but he didn’t continue, so they sat in comfortable silence for another few minutes, chowing down.

Jenna polished off her burger, then sat back with a hefty, satisfied sigh, hands going to her belly. She felt good and full - and ready to go to sleep. That thought triggered a curiosity, so she tapped on her phone, and was amazed to see that they had thirty minutes to midnight. This was a late night, indeed, she mused with both amusement and awe because she couldn’t remember the last time time had slipped so fluidly and quickly away from her - but, hell, she’d been more than content to see it go.

Kurt noticed her glance, poked a look at his watch, and grimaced. “It’s late,” He said.

Jenna nodded. “That it is.” She braced the back of her hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn, which morphed into a grin. “I’ve monopolized you for way too long. Sorry about that. Feel free to charge as necessary.”

Kurt chuckled and shook his head. “No need. Most of tonight was fun. Not work.” He spoke quietly, but sincerely, and it warmed Jenna up from head to toes.

“I’m glad,” She said, and she meant it. “I had a good time, too.” This all sounded like wrapping-up-the-first-date conversation, but she abruptly shoved that thought out of her head lest it implant others of the same caliber.

They slid out of the booth, tossed out their trash, then emerged back into the crisp, chilly night air. Jenna stuffed her hands in her pockets, inhaled deeply, and glanced out into the parking lot - this would be where they parted ways, she to her sedan, he to his snazzily-painted van.

She turned to say something to him - maybe one last quip - but it died in her throat when she realized their proximity. Their sides were brushing, and, at her height, she was staring at his chest, but when she looked up and saw that he was looking down and their eyes met, her heart seemed to abruptly seize in her chest. They stood there, on the sidewalk outside of the dinner, the harsh lights spilling out into the night and illuminating them, and tension sizzling and crackling between them, and Jenna’s breath caught and ensnared in her throat, and all she could think about was how easy it would be to just step up and pop onto her toes and press her mouth against his and -

Kurt cleared his throat, shattering whatever had befallen them, and looked away. Jenna couldn’t tell, but she thought she glimpsed redness flooding into his face - and that was painfully endearing. “I should go,” He said.

“Right. Yeah.” Jenna shuffled her feet, flustered. “Me, too.” She quickly stepped down off of the sidewalk and out of that thick, cloying tension. She did turn to look at him, though. “See you tomorrow?”

He smiled at her, and Jenna’s knees went a little weak. Maybe it was due to her head reeling from that almost-kiss, from that palpable tension that had made everything within her loosen and melt and turn to pliable mush - but, oh, god, did she not want to go.

He lingered on the sidewalk for a minute, despite having been the one to proclaim the need to leave - but then shook his head, apparently clearing his thoughts, and stepped off onto the blackened asphalt. “Yes,” He said, smiling. “See you tomorrow.”

Jenna grinned, tipped him a two-fingered salute, then turned to her sedan and let herself exhale - a long, shaky, fluttery breath. That little moment had thrown her completely off-kilter, but she quickly caught herself, slid into her car, and pulled out of the lot to head home, reeling from both a wonderful day (as long as it had been) and what had almost happened, leaving Kurt behind - and wearing a ridiculous grin the whole way home.

* * *

Kurt drove home with one hand curled loosely around the wheel and the other rubbing absently at his mouth with his elbow propped on the windowsill. He liked to think he was a great driver - he was diligent, and considering that he didn’t currently have an American license, that was warranted, and he didn’t get distracted often, but he’d just spent a few hours shy of half a day with someone who felt much less like a client than someone who - who - hell, there was no use trying to articulate it eloquently: he liked her. A lot. He hadn’t anticipated it - she was like his antithesis in terms of her being bubbly and enthusiastic and unabashedly loud and vehement, but yet here he was, driving to the apartment he shared with Dave, looking at the road but thinking of her and the day he’d had.

And that moment outside the diner.

Oh, god. His fingers tightened around the wheel. If he had a free hand, he’d be twirling the ring on his right hand around and around and around. As it were, he just continued to absently rub at the lower half of his face.

That had been...intense, as if they’d stepped out of that cozy diner and into a glaring spotlight of emotion. Their proximity - the way she’d been brushing against him - and the way she’d looked up at him, with those eyes that looked brown in the dark and dark, thick green in the light - the way just that eye contact and the way they were standing had brought back yesterday’s tension, paired with today’s camaraderie, surging back in an overwhelming flood.

He didn’t want to allow himself to think about what it would’ve been like to indulge in those feelings - to close that gap between them. The thought fluttered in his head but he squashed it - no distractions, no indulgence, he reminded himself.

He stuck to that for the rest of the drive, but he should’ve known it’d be futile when he got home. He tested the handle to the cramped little apartment, found it unlocked (for security men, they sure were lax), and opened the door to see Dave lounging in the one armchair they had, sprawled in front of the TV and indulging in some video game.

Kurt hoped he could slip in unnoticed and took great pains to close the door behind him with no more than a soft, gentle, whispered click, but it was to no avail.

“I don’t mean to get all mother hen on you, man,” Dave piped up, speaking casually - almost lazily. “And I’m not gonna ask where you been, but…..where you been?”

Kurt steeled himself. “Out.” He moved past the shared living space and headed towards his room.

“Mm,” Dave hummed, still letting his fingers tweak at the controller and not taking his eyes off of the screen - but grinning all the same. “Alone?”

Kurt stopped in front of his door and hung his head for a moment, then looked over his shoulder at a smug, amused Dave. “Stop it,” He said. “I do not need to be barbecued, okay? I’m tired.”

“And defensive,” Dave said in a singsong voice but laughed when Kurt shot him a not-so-subtle bird. “Nah, but, good on you, bro. I’m happy for you, man.”

Kurt only grunted, and slipped into his room, and closed the door behind him, and braced himself against it for a moment - pinching the bridge of his nose and shrugging off his laptop case and slinging it onto his bed. There was nothing to be happy for him about, he told himself - beyond securing a job and new client. That was it.

Kurt Goreshter was many things - ex-con, businessman, expert computer hacker - but a liar wasn’t one of them, and when he finally sank down onto his bed and put his head in his hands, he knew the stuff his internal monologue consisted of was, in fact, the furthest thing from the truth.

That _wasn’t_ just ‘it,’ and he knew it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caleb Baker is hard at work.

In a basement tucked beneath an abandoned husk of a building sat Caleb Baker - former member of HYDRA, diligent technician, engineer, and innovator, and lover of all things pertaining to the ocean. The place above his head was shelled, empty, and decrepit - nothing more than a musty, dusty, abandoned reminder of the restaurant that used to thrum with life and energy - but his underground lounge was a place of pristine, dazzling, sparkling technological beauty. When he’d first purchased the building, the basement had been nothing more than a storage facility, a space crowded and clustered with boxes and rusting metal shelves. A week of his care and solid diligence had revamped and transformed the room completely and spectacularly, so now it was a large, open, sleek lounge.

The walls were painted a rich, deep black, which was jarring, but was balanced out by the deep blue bulbs screwed and fitted into the overhead bars of light. The hue of blue that filtered down - paired with the endless, inky darkness of each wall - provided a sort of rich, shimmering, waving atmosphere, making him feel as if he were walking through waves every time he moved. Pictures and paintings of the ocean - and the creatures purported to lurk within its darkest depths - adorned the walls. On the left side of the large square room was a black leather sofa braced against the wall, underneath a large and ornately-painted (and framed) seascape. The pillow sitting on one of the cushions - along with the thick comforter that was folded on top of it - marked it as his temporary resting spot for the days when he worked late and returning to the apartment wasn’t an appealing option. The rest of the room looked like an exceptionally well-kept garage: workbenches were arranged around the space with an array of weapons in various stages of upkeep and maintenance and completion scattered on their flat surfaces, and a cluster of chairs with thick leather straps dangling from each arm like lifeless snakes were bunched against the right wall. A massive bulk of monitors - both TV and computer - loomed on the front wall and were arranged on the broad expanse of a black metal desk shoved up against the same wall.

This was the desk at which Caleb currently sat. He was hunched over his latest project - a tiny tool capable of packing a powerful punch (in terms of triggering the cells within one’s body to go haywire and launch a severe, vicious, rabid attack on their host, essentially making one internally devour oneself and engage in the most brutal, severe, literal form of autosarcophagy). Intense concentration crumpled his craggy face and ignited his pale-brown (borderline yellow) eyes with a determined, hard passion. A knotted tangle of dark, curly hair fell over his broad forehead, but he dismissed it and instead kept his attention glued to his deft fingers tweaking at the intricate bits and pieces of machinery before him.

Music drifted cheerfully from a speaker propped on his desk and bounced around the room, flooding it with a crooning voice and light, twangy music that accompanied it. He’d never been able to listen to the stuff that soothed and settled his frazzled nerves and volatile soul while he’d been serving, so he indulged himself this one tiny little thing (and the automatic air freshener that operated on a timer and every so often spritzed out a cloud of salty sea scent). He supposed that was the sole perk of being discharged - a wider scope of freedom - but he’d gladly give any and all music, in addition to his soul, to be back where he belonged. Leaving (being _forced_ to leave) the organization had stripped him of his vital purpose - of his life, essentially, and that had damaged him in ways he didn’t care to admit.

He hadn’t allotted himself any time to lick his wounds, and he didn’t intend to. As soon as he’d been kicked from the force, he’d moved into a spot that would serve as a place to sleep, then set about looking for some kind of hideout that would be perfect for his needs, and had stumbled across this lot for sale. After purchasing it, he’d gotten to work - and was still doing so. He fully intended to showcase to HYDRA the mistake they had made - he was going to make the people in power _grovel_ to get him back. The thought always revitalized him, and he could feel himself grinning as a surge of determined, driven, passionate need surged through his veins. He wished that all of his tech was already assembled so he could get a move on and cull a volunteer or two (he already had one in mind and was working on them) on which he could use his tools to demonstrate what he was capable of. He intended to perform a variety of experiments - performances, almost, given the length to which he was going to create a plethora of weapons capable of an immense number of tasks - and record all of it and send the footage to the people who’d given him the boot. He wanted to flaunt the capabilities and abilities (some of which they’d imparted on him themselves, by altering his biological makeup drastically) and promise that they’d so happily and hastily flushed down the drain.

Caleb’s grin widened into a toothy, hard, snarling smirk as he thought about how satisfying it would be, to poke fun and tease at the company who had treated and dismissed him so callously. He was sincerely looking forward to making HYDRA regret what they’d done to him.

Caleb set down his tiny tool and studied the miniature pump that looked like an upside-down inhaler. One pump of this bad boy would turn anyone into a writhing mess, hopeless and helpless as their body turned on them. He wanted to make HYDRA pay, yeah, he thought as he turned the weapon around and around in one hand (carefully avoiding the trigger), and he wanted them to come crawling to him. He wanted to humble them, but he also ached to rejoin them, too. There were a couple of warring factions and desires within him, but there was no changing the fact that he wanted to be with them as badly as he wanted to insult and berate and belittle and humiliate them. His anger - his hurt - was multi-faceted and oxymoronic, but he just chalked it up to wanting to return to them, but wanting to hurt them a little in the process, too. 

Rarely did he stop thinking about that - his goal, his purpose. It fueled him (that, and his mind tended to drive on one-track, anyways, and when he focused on something, he latched and suckered onto it with a feverish intensity and relentless). So rather than just tuck his tail between his legs and incorporate himself back into the fold of typical civilian life (which in and of itself was an impossibility for someone like him; someone who had been altered, and changed, and required different needs than normal people did, and had different desires and goals and lusts), he’d opted to fight back, and thinking of it, and letting it occupy his mind constantly, enabled him to maintain the motivation to do so.

Caleb was a man obsessed and possessed. He couldn’t stop thinking about the immense satisfaction and gratification that would reward his hard work, and how HYDRA would be falling all over themselves in order to reinstate him, and maybe this time they wouldn’t underestimate or dismiss him as too ‘wily’ or see him as a burden. The thought plucked at the raggedly sharp wound his dismissal had created, and his hands balled into tight fists, but before he could breathe through the anger and calm himself, a sudden and sharp stabbing, icy pain struck his stomach, as if a snowball made of solid ice had just slammed into him.

He tucked his instrument into a drawer and cursed under his breath, one hand flying to his middle, face contorting into a pained grimace. He wasn’t going to act as if this didn’t bother him - pain was temporary and a reminder of the sensations one experienced in life - but he’d been enduring it since they’d changed him, and it didn’t roll around often, seeing as it only served as a reminder that he needed to take care of himself. He winced as a cold, taut cramp seizes at his innards, and he clenched his teeth, inhaled deeply, and waited for this next roiling wave of internal spasms to pass. He’d been neglecting himself, and food was a must, as deemed evident by his internal rebellion.

So Caleb stood, inhaled the most recent spurt of sea-scent, smiled, stretched, then shrugged on a navy blue jacket and zipped it over his bulk. He took a second to admire the work he’d accomplished thus far, but his chilled body and biting gut reminded him of his new task at hand. He fished for a small remote, killed the music, and turned to trot up the stairs leading to the former restaurant he’d purchased under the claim of remodeling, revamping, and revitalizing it.

He ensured the lounge was locked up tight: a numerical code punched into a digital keypad, a fingerprint lock, and a retinal scan were a few of the means that he took to ensure that he had complete and total privacy in his little nirvana, and that nobody would violate the sacred space if he wasn’t there. He turned away from the nondescript door that led to a world of wonders, inhaled deeply again, then tucked his hands in his pockets and set out to go find a good meal, an eager smile playing across his lips and a vicious, cold rumble needling at his stomach.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bodies begin making an appearance.

Jenna sat curled cozily on her couch, dressed down in her favorite (and admittedly ratty) baggy plaid pajama pants and a loose white tank top. Her knees were curled to her chest and a cup of freshly made hot cocoa rested against her thighs and warmed her palms curled around the mug. It was the first day of the weekend - which, for her, started on Friday - and a couple of days after her late night tryst with Kurt.

The day following their little adventure, Jenna had showed up to work early to show Amelia the results of the security place she’d been entrusted to pick (not to mention had talked up upon returning to work the day she’d plucked them from the bunch). Amelia had hemmed and hawed and ultimately sent for their resident IT guy in order to glean a second opinion - he was good and tech-savvy, yes, but he certainly was no match for Kurt. He’d stamped his seal of approval on the work Kurt had done with an approving, murmured “damn” and a thumbs-up. Kurt had arrived in the midst of Amelia’s scrutiny, bearing an expense sheet, and she’d taken one look at him and snapped off a curt “excellent work, thank you” before telling Jenna to take care of the bill. That had allotted them a good half an hour of time, given the way they were bounced and juggled from person to person when they’d retreated to the Finances office, which was nice, but all too soon things had gotten settled and squared away and Jenna had found herself walking him to the door. She’d thanked him and promised to give him a ring if any other technological needs arose, and he’d smiled and nodded, and they’d parted ways, both of them dismissing the way the prospect of not seeing each other again for some time made them feel, but killing it so it wouldn’t weigh on them - too much.

With all of that handled and out of the way, Jenna was free to enjoy her weekend, and slothing out was included on the itinerary, amidst a few other things (going to the gym, for one; she hadn’t worked out in almost a week and ached for the wonderful soreness that accompanied a good strength training session, and finishing the book she’d started a few weeks ago, for another). Otherwise, the list was a clean slate, so here she was, cuddled up on the couch and mindlessly zoning out on TV.

She was settling back into the cushions - or between them, rather, in that target plush zone of comfort that one could sink into and never emerge again - when her phone, resting on the granite kitchen counter behind her, emitted a loud and obtrusive buzz. Jenna made a face at her cup of hot chocolate and considered ignoring it, but it continued to vibrate and thrum. Someone was clearly trying to get in touch with her, so, with effort, she heaved herself out of her cozy little spot, set her mug on top of her minuscule coffee table in front of the sofa, and moved to answer her incessantly-ringing phone.

With her back turned to her TV, she didn’t see the show she was watching disappear abruptly, replaced by the solemn face of a reporter heading a breaking news broadcast. She stood in front of a towering apartment complex, and behind her clustered a mob of people: some were dressed in polished, pristine white garb that pronounced them paramedics, and others were dressed head-to-toe in navy blue uniforms and using their bodies as a means with which to shoulder and block morbidly curious pedestrians and bystanders out of the way and keep them from infringing on whatever scene was hidden by the solid wall of bodies. “Tragedy strikes for the umpteenth time this month,” The reporter said stoically. “As yet another body has been discovered on the residential streets of San Francisco. The police have offered no comment or official statement, but several witnesses have corroborated the fact that, yes, this murder is correlated to the strings of deaths currently sweeping over the city, the deaths that have been running rampant for the past four weeks. While, again, we have no statements from officials, the cause of death is believed to be hypothermia in its extremest form. This is a common factor amongst these bizarre series of murders - freezing to death in a state with a sunny clime is seemingly impossible. So officers are working hard to solve this puzzling and frightening mystery, and are reminding the community to follow the curfew, and keep little ones inside, and -“

The reporter prattled on, but Jenna tuned her out and answered her phone. The number wasn’t in her contacts and certainly didn’t ring any bells. “Hello?” She said.

On the other end, there was silence. She listened for a moment, leaning an elbow against her counter, brow crumpling. She was unabashedly perturbed about the fact that this mysterious caller had yanked her off of the couch but now had the audacity to refuse to speak when she answered their call. She dismissed the small, pinprick of unease stabbing at her gut as irritation and instead tried again to get an answer. Once more, she was greeted by silence, and when she strained her ears, she couldn’t even hear the telltale gentle puff of exhales or inhales. There was no sign of life. Her unease grew. “Uh,” Jenna spoke again, wondering if this was some kind of automated scam program. Maybe speaking more would cue some kind of robot to come sweeping in and do its job trying to sell her something - which would be annoying, yes, but reassuring, too. This silence was unsettling. “Hello? Anyone there? Are you calling to talk to me about the insurance for the car that I don’t have or the vacation I won from staying at a hotel that I’ve literally never stayed at before or even knew existed before this call?”

The line went dead.

Jenna stared at the home screen of her phone, bewildered. So much for that. She shrugged it off, and slipped her phone into her pocket. Maybe she’d chased whoever was on the other end off - that was just fine with her. She moved back to the couch, snatched up her mug of hot chocolate, and settled comfortably back into the cushions. She zeroed in on the report still unfolding on TV and frowned, mug held up to her mouth but not tipped. She grimaced when she saw the scene - a series of grisly murders all occurring within the span of a month was beyond repulsive, and a clear sign that something dangerous was lurking within the city, and thinking about it made her shiver. She didn’t change the channel and instead only watched as the reporter clued the audience in to what information they had gleaned so far: all of the bodies had been discovered in random, different locale, there didn’t seem to be any connection between their locations or their identities, and the one thing the victims all had in common was their cause of death. Hypothermia. Their bodies had been found swollen, and frozen, and colored a wide range of blues and purples and grays, with their eyes bulging sightlessly from their skulls and their skin the temperature of ice and limbs welded into place. The police were still working on puzzling through this mystifying and horrifying enigma, and given that hypothermia in the generally sunny state of California was a near, if not downright impossible, occurrence, it was quite a puzzle indeed. The reporter reiterated this and the advice the police department continued to spout: keep children (and yourself) indoors at night and follow the curfew, and bundle up thoroughly if you dared to venture going out. Crank up your heaters or find a source that provided heat as soon as possible when you were exposed. Every tidbit was generic stuff that would be warranted if the weather required it, but the conditions permeating throughout California (that of bright blue skies, balmy days, a shining sun) certainly didn’t.

Jenna listened with a grimace. She was usually in bed by nine or ten - sleep was important for her - but she remembered her escapade a few days ago, and thinking about what might’ve happened to herself, or Kurt, was unnerving. She didn’t relax until the report came to an end. When it did, she exhaled, puffing air from extended cheeks, and sank back into the couch, and wondered what the hell was going on. The news report blipped back to regularly scheduled programming, and Jenna took advantage of the commercial break to flip and scroll through her phone and check her socials, trying to shake off her nerves from the report and the mysterious phone call. Both, admittedly, had rattled her, but she was determined to chalk the latter up to no more than a first-time telemarketer losing their nerve, and the former a (reasonable) response to the current clime of her state.

She pulled up her email, and saw that she had a message from her boss waiting in her inbox. That in and of itself was enough to blow everything else on her mind out of the water, and she wriggled up in her seat, heart picking up its pace. She opened the message and saw that Amelia had written out a more thorough ‘good job’ to make up for the curt, brisk, and lackluster nod she’d given her - she had to keep up employee morale somehow, Jenna figured amusedly, but didn’t mind one bit. She thanked her for a job well-done, and Jenna couldn’t help but grin like an idiot as she reread her stone-cold boss openly praising her. A sense of accomplishment came surging and coursing back through her veins.

“Hell yeah,” She said, holding her phone in one hand, and her cup of hot cocoa in the other, grinning enormously, unable to contain her excitement because gleaning praise from Amelia was the workplace equivalent of winning some kind of prestigious aware or prize. But, hey, she couldn’t have done it without the excellent, sharp talent of Kurt the Security Man, and that thought emboldened her. Before she could stop herself - that connection between her brain and body had proven, time and time again, to be frayed - she was pulling up a search engine, typing in ‘x-con security consultants’ so she could grab their number.

Before she tapped on the number and hit the call button, her mind did pierce through her instinctive fog - _Oh, god, what the hell am I doing?_ flitted through her mind - but that was only temporary, because her thumb twitched and her hand raised her phone to her ear and suddenly she was listening to it ring. Her pulse spiked and her heart beat in her chest and she couldn’t help but be reminded that she had no earthly idea what she was doing, but, hey, that was fine. It was too late to back out now, because it had been steadily ringing as her mind whirred through a plethora of self-doubting thoughts, and before she could even think about lowering her hand and ending the call with a deft tap of her finger, her call was picked up.

“X-Con Security,” The voice on the other end drawled. Jenna quickly rattled through the process of elimination to determine that she was talking to Dave. “We got you covered. What can I do for you?”

“Hey,” Jenna said, then wondered if it would be too weird to use his name considering they hadn’t actually been introduced, then wondered if the silence stretching out and unspooling was much too long and awkward, then decided to just keep moving forward and plow on because oh god it really was drawing out now and becoming tense. “Yeah. I, uh, was calling to see if Kurt’s available.”

There was a brief pause, then he spoke again, and she could practically hear the grin in his voice. “Oh, shit,” He said, and Jenna bit down on her lip to keep from laughing because it was extremely unprofessional but also fantastic and made her like the guy even more. There was no masking who he was behind professional, stiff cordiality and formality. “You’re the woman who came in the other day, right?”

“Yup,” Jenna said. “And you’re the guy who got into an argument with his boss about fish.” She grinned, and hoped her lilted voice couldn’t be misconstrued as housing ill will.

“For damn good reason,” Dave muttered under his breath, then continued. “Nah, but, yeah, he’s available. Sittin’ right here. I bet he’ll be glad to hear from you, with the way he was fallin’ all over himself and drooling - hey, back up off me, man, you stay on _your_ side of the desk -“ She heard indistinct voices, and what sounded like scuffling. “Hey, I’m just gonna go ahead and transfer you real quick,” Dave said, and, once more, she could hear the grin in his tone. “‘Cause apparently Kurt can’t handle the truth.”

Befuddled but amused, Jenna sat back into the couch cushions and laughed. “Alright,” She said, and then Dave was off the line, and she was on hold, and something (Morrissey?) was playing cheerfully in her ear. A solid, resolute click followed a few seconds of music, and then a breathless Kurt spoke.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” Jenna grinned, though some part of her - the same part of her that had wanted to kiss him the other night, that very same part that harbored that tingling, euphoric, bubbly little crush on him - was still focused on what Dave had said. That was interesting, indeed. “So, I don’t know what proper etiquette is when it comes to this kind of thing,” She said, and decided paying attention to what was spewing from her mouth would be a good idea lest she say something incredibly stupid, as she was often wont to do. “But I just got an email from my boss, and it was _glowing._ And, take it from me, she never glows. So I think you left quite the impression on her, and I also think that warrants celebration.” So far, so good - she wasn’t making a blundering idiot out of herself. “So, if you’re free, and want to, of course, I was thinking we could go grab some lunch. My treat, of course - y’know, a ‘thank you for doing such an awesome job and also boosting my boss’s opinion of me tenfold by showing her just how capable of doing excellent work I am’ kind of thing.” She held her breath, realizing she’d just unleashed a spiel, and inwardly cursed herself for the laxity of her tongue.

“That,” Kurt said, then paused, and in the background there was a gentle squeak (which, in all reality, was the sound of his chair as he spun away from Dave’s amused scrutiny and faced the window overlooking the street), then he spoke again, and his voice was quiet but warm. “Sounds good. I would like that.”

Jenna couldn’t help the instinctive grin that dawned on her face - it was just _there._ “Great,” She said. “I need to head up into town to run some errands anyways, and there’s this nifty little place I know nearby.” Clearly, she spent most of her time eating, or hunting for good places to eat. She didn’t care - she’d acquired an arsenal of info about the best places to grub and the places with the best grub. 

“Sure.” Kurt said, and there was another muffled moment of conversation. “I’m sorry,” He blustered when he got back on the line. “Friends are….obnoxious.” She could picture him saying that while glowering at whoever was needling at him, and she laughed. “But yes. Let’s do that. I am on break at noon. I can meet you in front of office building then.”

“Awesome. See you then.” She hung up, and took a second to just grin at her phone. She didn’t care that earlier she’d been annoyed about a phone call interrupting her slothing and now she’d just made plans that would require her to get up, get dressed, and get out - she’d happily sacrifice a whole day of lazing around if it meant - _nope,_ she told herself firmly as she downed the rest of her hot cocoa (scalding her tongue and throat and grimacing at her recklessness) and climbed back out of her spot. _Not gonna think about_ ** _that_** _right now._ ‘That’ being her feelings, but even allowing herself that made her turn all warm and mushy, so she shoved it out of her head and moved to use the next half an hour to get ready for her lunch with Kurt.

* * *

 A solid fifteen minutes, a shower, and the painstaking detangling of hair later, Jenna backed out of her apartment, keys in hand, jiggling the doorknob to ensure it was locked with one hand and patting the pocket on her hoodie to make sure her phone and wallet were tucked safely inside with the other. She’d figured donning a versatile outfit would be good - hence the mint-green hoodie with the white piping and black leggings and white sneakers that would serve as both an appropriate outfit to grab lunch and go to the gym; her sense of fashion centered on the multi-purpose.

She tucked her keys into her other hoodie pocket, stuffed both hands comfortably inside, and turned to head down the hall - only to nearly collide against the burly broad chest of her next-door neighbor and resident buddy Caleb.

She tipped her head back to grin up at him. “Watch yourself. You almost flattened me,” Jenna teased.

Caleb smiled down at her. For as long as she’d known him - a couple of months - he was demure, and quiet, and nothing like his size would suggest - imposing, perhaps, or intimidating, or brusque. He was the antithesis of all of that and because of his inversion of those tropes, they’d gotten along spectacularly. They’d met while he was moving in - she’d offered to lend him a hand and had wound up breaking one of his lamps in the process and had sworn up and down and all around that she’d replace it (all the while hoping it wasn’t some kind of precious, priceless family heirloom). Luckily, it’d been something tacky he’d picked up at a flea market - she’d found a replacement with ease, and he’d wanted to repay her with dinner, and everything was history from there. 

He took note of her appearance - her garb, her hair brushed and blown dry and ruffled around her shoulders - and raised a brow. “I’m amazed you’re up and about before the sun goes down. Especially on a weekend.”

“I’m not nocturnal,” Jenna scoffed, but smiled to lighten the sharp tone of her voice. “I’ve just got a….thing today.”

“A thing,” Caleb repeated, amused.

“A thing, yeah.” Jenna affirmed - then slipped her phone out of her pocket to shoot a glance at the time. “A thing I don’t wanna be late for.” With that, she flashed him a grin. “If I get back at a reasonable hour and you’re not in bed - let’s say, five,” She teased. “Hit me up and maybe we could do something.”

Caleb rolled his eyes. She was used to his teasing about her being prone to sleeping in - and he was used to her jabs about retiring early. “Yeah,” He said, hands in the pockets of his jeans, pale eyes peering at her. “That sounds good.”

“Great.” Jenna flashed a smile and stepped around him to hustle off down the hall.

“Good luck with your thing,” Caleb called after her, gaze still trailing her back, and she tipped an acknowledging - and thanking - hand at him in response.

* * *

 Jenna made it to the building home to a plethora of small businesses - but, most notably, X-Con - with five minutes to spare. It had taken her an unreasonable large amount of time to find a parking spot, and that had been more than a couple of blocks away from Leavenworth, so she’d logged in a few minutes of exercise by jogging. Now she leaned against the back of a metal bench, catching her breath - damned cardio - and enjoying the slight breeze that cooled her flushed skin.

At twelve on the dot, she heard the muffled sounds of footsteps, and looked up to see Kurt emerging from the doorway, in the midst of shrugging on his navy blue coat with the logo of his company stitched on the breast. He spotted her, and their eyes met, and she grinned, allowing herself a second to enjoy the way her nerves fizzled and bubbled like a shaken soda, but not losing herself in the feeling. “Hey,” She said.

Kurt smiled at her, and the part of her determined not to get caught up in her feelings loosened and wrenched a little. “Hi,” He returned.

Jenna was going to offer up some kind of quip when there was a loud, hollow, metallic plinking noise, and she stared at the bottle cap spinning on the cement. Her gaze roved up the building - where, at the X-Con window, she saw Luis and Dave vying for space while simultaneously elbowing Scott - who clutched one of those old-fashioned glass soda bottles in one hand. When they saw her looking at them, and when she grinned and raised a brow and tipped them a wave, they hustled and jostled and shoved each other out of view.

Kurt followed her gaze, and groaned. “We should go,” He said in a mutter, annoyed - Jenna just laughed and nodded. 

“Your friends are great,” She said when they set off down the sidewalk. Her hands were stuffed in her pockets, but her elbow brushed occasionally against his arm. She did her best to ignore the way the contact thrilled her. 

Kurt snorted softly at that. “And nosy.”

“Well, I don’t mean to make snap judgements, but if the shoe fits…” Jenna teased. 

“And it does,” He said, and shot her a sideways grin, and that made her laugh, again, and they continued to walk down the street, heading towards the cozy, popular little hot spot with the smorgasbord of food.

The forty-five minutes allotted for lunch (per his schedule) flew by at a speed that was incredibly disarming. It felt like they had barely sat down to eat when he shot a glance at his watch and frowned. They’d been talking about nothing, and yet it had all felt like something. “I should be getting back,” He said, and sat back against the booth, not making any move to actually do the aforementioned.

Jenna swiped at her mouth with a napkin and nodded. “Yeah. Might be a good idea.” She flashed him a grin. “Thanks for agreeing to -“ For a second, she floundered. ‘Come out with me’ made it sound like a date. And this definitely hadn’t been a date. _Nope,_ she told herself as she finished lamely with, “See me” as if it were some kind of meeting rather than the date that it most certainly _wasn’t._

“Thank you for invite,” Kurt returned, simply but straightforwardly.

And for a beat, there was silence. He didn’t get up to return to work, and she only sat there and continued to polish off the rest of her fries. Both of them were reluctant go, because this was the last meeting that they could chalk up to work; they’d stretched the whole ‘doing this on business’ excuse taut. Leaving meant scrounging up another reason to see each other - and scrounging up another reason meant really taking a look at whatever was going on and dissecting whatever they were feeling, and neither of them were quite prepared for that just yet. 

“Alright,” Jenna sat back with a sigh, crumpling up her napkin and tossing it onto her plate littered with remnants of her tasty meal. “I think we’ve kinda prolonged the inevitable long enough.” 

Kurt smiled at that - a semi-embarrassed, sheepish sort of grin - but before he could say anything, his phone chirruped. He frowned, fished for it, offered a quick “Sorry,” then took it. Whoever was on the line was jabbering away, for he could barely get a word in otherwise, and as the conversation progressed, his eyebrows knitted closer and closer together and his mouth turned down in a steep frown. “Okay,” He said at what a puzzled Jenna could only assume was the end of the conversation. “I will be there.” He hung up, and stared his phone for a minute, then looked up at Jenna, looking stoic. “They found another body.”

That jarred her out of her comfortably-full-and-content zone abruptly and abrasively. “ _What?”_

Kurt nodded, fingers curling around his phone. “Off the highway, on the beach.” He shook his head. “Now I really have to go. Thank you, for this.” He rose, no longer lax and unwound but snapping into taut alertness and action. 

“No problem,” Jenna said, still reeling, and she sat back against the booth, rocked and appalled as she watched him hurry out of the restaurant and make a sharp right and disappear.All she could articulate was a befuddled - and frightened - _‘what the hell is going on?’_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gang discuss the issue at hand and Kurt gets to work.

“Twice in one day,” Hope Van Dyne was saying as Kurt erupted into the dining room of the Pym home (located securely and comfortably on a private, secluded stretch of the coastal front, beyond a massive, dense border of trees), having zipped over as soon as he’d received Scott’s call. She stood at the front of the table, arms folded, brow furrowed, and stared down at an unfolded, wrinkled map of San Francisco sprawled out and charted in neat little lines and numbers and names. “Whoever’s doing this is getting bolder.”

Chairs were clustered around the darkly vanished oaken, ornate table. Scott, Luis, and Dave sat on the end opposite where Hope stood - Hank and Janet were perched on the side facing the exterior wall. Dave looked up and waved Kurt over with a jerk of his head - he quickly slipped behind his friends, silent, and looked over the map, wanting to catch up. Dark red circles had been meticulously filled in and imprinted neatly across the large sheet of paper, and it only took a second for the pieces to fall into place. The red dots represented the corpses that had been found thus far. He counted sixteen in total, and his stomach sank.

“Bolder,” Janet said, a hand pressed contemplatively to her mouth. “Or enjoying the attention. It’s not every day you can get the whole city riled up like this by doing something so inexplicable. I’m sure they’re relishing the media frenzy they’ve stirred up.”

Kurt didn’t fully understand why he, or the others, were there, but that was a question for another time. He stood behind the guys and listened intently.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Hope said, voice singed with frustration and a scowl tugging her lips down. “I’ve searched the city from top to bottom. I’ve been everywhere. Whoever’s doing it leaves no clues, or signs, or anything, and there’s absolutely no way someone could freeze to death in this weather.”

“Then it’s gotta be tech,” Scott chimed in from where he sat, rubbing at the fine growth of stubble lining his jaw.

Hank, Janet, and Hope looked at him.

“What? If you can make tech that turns people smaller than atoms, or bigger than -“ He paused, scrounging for something that would be an apt comparison, then settled simply for “Skyscrapers, then I don’t think it’s totally out of the realm of possibility that someone could make some kinda weaponry that’d cause people to, y’know….freeze.”

Hank shifted in his seat and stared at Scott with that flinty, stony gaze that made anyone on the receiving end of it squirm. “Are you suggesting that someone’s walking around the city carrying a _freeze ray_?”

Janet put a hand on his shoulder - a reminder for him to curb his biting tongue and reign in his impatience. “It’s not a bad idea.”

“Yeah,” Luis piped up. “I mean, all of the tech stuff you guys have made so far is super duper dope, but sounds like all of it should come out of a sci-fi novel or somethin’, you know what I mean? So why _couldn’t_ someone be strolling around with a freeze ray or gun or whatever?”

“Alright, so let’s go with the tech angle for a minute,” Hope said, unfolding her arms and planting her hands on the table, studying the map again with a ferocity burning in her gaze. “I think we can eliminate some sort of freeze ray in the most common sense of the word - the bodies aren’t frozen solid. I think it’d be fair to eliminate any kind of tech that causes a slow-burn sort of freeze - these people weren’t stricken with hypothermia and left to die. Otherwise they would’ve sought help.”

“Right. So that leaves the possibility of something that would cause immediate hypothermia. A ‘from-life-to-death-in-seconds-flat’ kinda thing,” Scott spoke again, leaning back in his seat, hooking his fingers through the handle of the mug resting on the table before him and bringing the lip to his mouth to take a swig. 

“And that kind of equipment isn’t readily available to just anybody,” Hank said, studying the map, a furrow crinkling his age-worn brow. He looked up at the cluster of men grouped at the end of the table and met Kurt’s gaze. He sat back in his seat and studied him for a moment and Kurt met his gaze evenly, though the temptation to look elsewhere was impossibly strong. The look he bore now wasn’t a glare so much as it was one of mild albeit sharp curiosity, but still made him feel as if he was some kind of science experiment or anomaly being studied under a microscope. “You. You’re good with computers, right? Think you can get us access to HYDRA’s database?”

Kurt wanted to bristle at the doubt and contempt in Hank’s voice, but he knew that was just how the man was - and for good reason; his expectations for people tended to skyrocket through the roof of the tallest building - so he wasn’t going to let himself be needled by it. There were more important things at stake. “Yes,” He said simply. “I can do that. Will take some time, but I am sure it’s possible. No security system is completely untouchable.”

Hank nodded. “Do that. It’s a good first place to look, and we’re better off starting there than nowhere. Those scumbags are precisely the kind to have their hands on that kind of tech - made to hurt, not help.”

Kurt nodded. His laptop was back at the office, tucked snugly and safely in his desk drawer - and he preferred the comfort and routine of the machine he knew like the back of his tattooed hand, but he’d make do. “Is there anywhere I can work?” He paused, then added, trying to bite back a wry little smile. “And anything I can use to work?”

Hank shot him a pointed look and rose from his chair with the softest of grunts. “Yes to both, smartass,” He said, and his voice was gravelly and harsh but there was an undercurrent of begrudging amusement. He strode out of the kitchen.

Scott elbowed Kurt. “You’re in,” He said once he had the latter’s attention. He grinned. “You know he likes you when he acts like you annoy the hell out of him.”

“Damn, man,” Luis said. “He must _love_ the rest of us, then.”

“Okay,” Dave interjected, absently flipping a hand in the air as if asking permission to pose a question. He leaned back in his chair, knees butting against the edge of the table, balancing precariously on two wooden legs. “There’s this dude - or lady, or person, or thing, we dunno - running around the city and freezing people to death, probably with some kinda advanced weapon shit, who we’re trying to track down by infiltrating HYDRA, this big bad world-dominating group, and it’s a complete stab in the dark? We’re pretty much sticking our necks out and flyin’ blind here?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Scott said.

Dave mulled that over, then shrugged. “Alright then. Whatever we gotta do.”

Hank returned a beat later, a laptop tucked under his arm. He passed it to Kurt, who took it, and ran one hand over the smooth black surface appreciatively and turned it over and around in his nimble hands. “You can work wherever you want. Just be careful. Last thing we need is those bozos catching onto us.”

Kurt nodded, then looked up at Hank. “This won’t be quick,” He warned. “Getting into any security system is feasible, but they will have advanced protection, and getting through it without getting caught is going to take time.”

Hope spoke before Hank could. “That’s fine. We don’t really have a choice. Just be as diligent as you can.”

Kurt nodded again, but didn’t leave - he planned to set up in the living room, because if he was going to be working away for however long it’d take (he was estimating a couple of hours, at the least), he needed to be comfortable - but he didn’t leave quiet yet. Something told him the conversation wasn’t over. 

“And what about the rest of us?” Scott asked.

“Yeah, actually, that’s a good question,” Luis seconded. “I get why you guys need Kurt, but - why, exactly, are _we_ here?”

Hank, tongue in cheek, stared at Luis. “Because, unfortunately, you’re a package deal.”

Luis sat back in his seat and flashed his trademark grin, heavy and luminous with his infectious bubbliness and zest. “Good enough for me.”

“And as much as I’d be glad to tackle this on my own, we could use all the help we can get,” Hope said. “I’m going to be doing another circuit around the city tonight, just in case whoever this is decides to go for a triple. But I can’t be everywhere at once. There’s no promise or guarantee, but the four of us keeping our eyes out and staying on guard - should be alright.”

Now the pieces were beginning to fall into place. Kurt lingered for just another moment more, to ensure that there wasn’t any vital information he was going to be missing, and when they started tracing out the routes and sectors each person was going to take, he took the opportunity to sidle out of the room and slip down the hall to duck into the extravagant and much-too-fancy-for-his-taste living room. Everything was ornate and oaken and engraved and old, probably. He took a seat on the ornate, oaken, old armchair in the corner of the room, leaned back, readied himself for the inevitable headache that would swoop down on him within the span of a few hours of hardy work, balanced the computer on his thighs, and popped it open.

His leg was pressed against the side of the armchair, and his phone was pressed against his leg. He slipped a hand into his pocket and tugged out his phone and looked at it for a moment and suddenly the afternoon came rushing back to him in vivid, pristine clarity. He glanced around, ensured that he was alone, then unlocked his phone and pulled up his contacts. He quickly pulled up a new text.

_Hey,_ He wrote, fingers deft and quick. _Sorry about earlier. Things are messy. But I want to make it up to -_ The sudden drum of footsteps against the wooden floor interrupted his flow and he quickly locked his phone again, heart in his throat, tossing his phone flippantly onto the coffee table before refocusing his attention on his laptop, ignoring the murmured stream of voices wafting through the house. 

When the voices and footsteps faded, Kurt reached for his phone again, opened it, saw the first half of an unwritten message, frowned at how inept and awkward it seemed, and erased it. He was sure Jenna had understood his urgency and his need to zip on out of there, but things had ended rather abruptly and clumsily and that perturbed him. He shook his head to clear it, muttered “No time” under his breath in Russian because he had a job to do and he couldn’t lose focus by thinking about her which would inevitably distract him more than he wanted to be distracted but he also couldn’t stop thinking about the message he’d almost sent and whether or not he should try to formulate something better to say because he didn’t want things to be weird between them but he also didn’t even know if they were weird but - “No time!” He told himself again, interrupting his incoherent, babbling stream of thoughts, scowling at his computer, squashing all of his tangents and instead zeroing in on the screen before him with a grim, solemn determination.

And, with that, his mind fixated and zeroed in on the task at hand, Kurt got to work. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mystery deepens.

Jenna returned home with a billion questions buzzing at the forefront of her mind, questions that were more or less fragmented bits and pieces centering around what the hell was going on and what the hell that phone call had been about and what the hell kind of role was Kurt playing in all of this. She knew those last two questions were undeniably, needlingly nosy, but she was disconcerted and so she allowed herself to wonder.

She trotted up the steps leading to the hallway that, in turn, led to her home, stuffing a hand in the pocket of her jacket to pull out her keys, lost in thought and moving automatically and instinctively, her eyes clouded with thought and distraction, so it was no wonder that she didn’t see Caleb leaning against the wall on her side of the hall until the last possible second.

He seemed to loom up out of nowhere and abruptly snapped her out of her reverie - and startled her into dropping her keys with a loud jangle. He grinned and bent to scoop them up into his palm and passed them to her, one of his bushy brows arched, a question on his lips, but she ignored his inquisitive look and snatched them back with a nod and fumbled them into her door, not intending to be rude but trying to recover from the start he’d given her.

“Wow,” Caleb observed. “What kinda bees are in your bonnet?”

“Ones that don’t like being scared,” Jenna returned, looking at him, making a face - but softening it and offering a gentle grimace before popping open her door and stepping inside - leaving it open, an invitation for him to step in after her.

Which he did.

He crossed the threshold and shut the door. “It wasn’t exactly like I was hiding behind anything, just waiting to jump out and scare you,” He pointed out shrewdly.

Jenna dumped her keys onto the counter, and followed it with her wallet and phone. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry. I was just…lost in thought and didn’t expect to see you _right there_ , y’know?”

“Right.” Caleb, who’d spent his fair share of time in her apartment, moved into the kitchen to pull two wine glasses down from the cabinet. “Looks like you could use something to take that edge off.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Good luck. I’ve only got sparkling cider that’s probably way too old, water, and apple juice.”

“All work,” He said, and set the glasses on the counter with a light _tink_ , and went to the fridge to scrounge.

Jenna watched him. His comfort and ease in her apartment didn’t bother her - hell, she’d done things of similar caliber when she’d popped by his place - but…she’d come home already ill at ease, and she didn’t know how well she could entertain. She leaned against the island facing the living room and combed a hand through her hair and watched him take the bottle of cider from her fridge, rip off the foil, and fish through her junk drawer for something to wrench the lid off. As his hands worked, he looked up at her, and once more that eyebrow came up. “What’s the deal?”

She absently fiddled with one of the keychains that cluttered her keyring and watched her fingers toy with the small metal tag. She usually confided most things to Caleb, but there was something in her gut that was unsettled. Something that was unnerved. She let herself feel it for a moment, then ignored it, chalking it up to whatever had happened earlier that afternoon that had thrown her completely off-kilter. “I dunno if you heard, but apparently they - the police, I’m assuming - found another body. I think it’s the second today. I sort of pseudo-watched a news report today and got the gist of it and….” She trailed off, unable to articulate how she was feeling. She opted out of including her lunch date with Kurt being cut short because of it - despite the fact that her tongue had a tendency of going wild all on its own, often against her own will, this time she tightened the reigns and pressed her tongue to her cheek to shut herself up about that particular thing.

Caleb, who’d wrenched the lid off and been pouring cider into each glass, didn’t pause or waver. His gaze followed the bubbling stream of liquid gush into each glass cup and watched it slosh. “It’s really too bad,” He said with a flippancy that perturbed her.

Jenna raised her eyebrows at him skeptically. “‘Too bad?’ That doesn’t seem to cover it. At all.”

Caleb set the bottle aside, thumbed the lid back on, and passed her a glass. She took it and sipped at it and relished the crisp, carbonated, fizzy taste and enjoyed the way it bubbled down her throat but kept her gaze on him. “It’s horrible,” He corrected, picking up his own glass and draining half of it in one go. His pale eyes bored into hers. “And tragic.”

Jenna sloshed down another sip of cider. It felt as if he was correcting himself for her sake. That perturbed her, but - then again, the whole day had been a confusing, overwhelming influx of emotion. Maybe she was just frying - maybe her circuits were overloaded. With that thought, she forced herself to heave a deep sigh and release all of the stress she’d been holding in the tautness of her body and slumped over the counter, resting her glass back down on the smooth surface so she could fold her forearms and plant her forehead on them. “Just been a real long day,” She said to puncture the thickly awkward silence that had fallen.

Caleb rounded the counter, holding his glass with the stem tucked between two fingers and his palm cupping the smooth curve of the bottom, and set a big broad hand on her shoulder. Instinctively, she shuddered, because even through the cloth of her jacket, his hand was cold. Freezing, almost.

That distracted her, and she lifted her head, and looked at him, brows raised. “Are you alright?” She asked, bewildered. “You’re, like, negative degrees.” She reached to pat the hand on his back and ascertain that he, in fact, had an astonishingly low body tempt, but he pulled it away before she could touch it.

He tucked that hand in the pocket of his own jacket and shrugged his broad shoulders. “Fine. Just chilly.”

Jenna picked up her glass again. “Alright,” She said, accepting that, because that was how he was. She was used to posing a certain question or doing a certain thing and colliding into a brick - no, a solid steel - wall he slammed down. He was a hard man to read, so she didn’t know what was or wasn’t acceptable with him, so she didn’t probe or push it further. “But, yeah, anyways, that’s my deal.”

Caleb’s face seemed to clear at that and turn lightly sunny again. “In that case, I know just the cure.”

Jenna arched a brow. A cure for feeling so complexly perturbed about a serial killer sweeping through the ranks of her city? A cure for the extent of her sadness for the people who’d lost their lives - and the people who’d lost a significant chunk of theirs? Both of those thoughts danced into her head with a biting cruelty and she clutched at her glass and downed the rest of it in an attempt to distract herself and keep from welling up. “I thought this was the cure,” She said once she’d finished, tipping the glass in his direction.

“I thought so at first, but I was wrong. You need something more serious.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Pizza.” 

For a split second, she was stricken by the ridiculousness of all of this - ordering pizza as a ‘remedy’ for all of these big emotions embedding themselves within her - but it did sound good, so she only smiled and bobbed her head and slipped back around the counter to pour herself some more cider.

* * *

An hour later, they were seated on Jenna’s small cushy couch in front of the TV, legs propped on the rectangular ottoman shoved up to the edge of the couch, an empty pizza box open and resting on the counter behind them.

Jenna had a hand curled over her comfortably full belly, and the other was still wrapped around her glass. She was pretty certain she’d drained more than a half of the bottle - Caleb was still nursing his second drink, and she’d gotten up to refill a good five or six times. It was a pretty damn good thing it wasn’t alcoholic, she thought with some minor amusement, before taking another swig.

They were watching TV. She was absently scrolling through the channels and tapping the arrow button with her index finger, but when she blipped past a news report, she straightened and immediately switched back, ignoring Caleb’s befuddled glance.

She watched, alert, as the anchors rehashed the most current story at hand, and when they said the police still didn’t have any leads (or weren’t releasing them, in any case, but a reliable source determined that the former was the truth), she frowned.

And Caleb smiled.

She turned to him (his smile vanished in a wink and he looked somber), then slumped back into the couch and rubbed at her face with one hand and couldn’t even come close to articulating what she was feeling. For once, the woman who could happily chatter along at a million words per minute was speechless.

And spent. The whole day had been a damn whirlwind of weird, uncomfortable emotions, and she wanted to pick her own brain and figure out what was going on with herself rather than just letting everything stew and fester in an unpleasantly complicated tangled knot. 

Jenna shot a sidelong glance at Caleb. He was reclining back against the couch, arms splayed on top of the backing cushions, gaze idle and almost bored, face relaxed yet containing no real emotion. Then his gaze panned to her, and he raised his brows and offered a smile, and Jenna returned it, but there was that feeling again, that tugging and itching feeling deep in her gut, of incredibly uneasiness.

She hated it. He was her friend! Why was she feeling so….weird and antsy and uncomfortable around the guy she’d been palling around with for the past couple of months? Why that feeling, and why now, and what did it mean?

It was all exasperating, so she inwardly sighed relief when her tongue decided to take control. “Alright. Hate to cut this party short, but I’m beat.” She switched off the TV and set the remote on the coffee table. “Which is code for ‘skedaddle.’” She flashed him a grin and hoped it wasn’t too off-kilter.

Caleb snorted and lurched up off of the couch. “As your friend, I’m going to pretend you never said that.”

Jenna rolled her eyes and stood from the couch, allowed herself a brief stretch, then walked him to the door, as her own custom dictated. “I’ll see you around,” She said.

Caleb stepped over the threshold and turned to look at her and their eyes met and she had to suppress the urge to shiver because she’d never noticed just how pale his eyes were, they were almost not even brown at all but a translucent sort of yellow - but then he smiled and that softened his craggy face and illuminated those eyes. “Try to get some rest.”

Jenna snorted light laughter. “I’ll do my best. Have a good night.”

“You, too.”

With that, she stepped back, and closed the door, and stood there for a moment, relishing the firm, sturdy thud it made, and then quickly twisting the lock shut and hooking the chain into its place so everything was nice and secure (or as much so as it could be). She wanted to just collapse against the door and heave a sigh of relief, but resisted the urge and instead focused herself to move - she cleaned up the clutter on the coffee table, scooping up the glasses and depositing them rather than dumping them (as was her norm with her other, more durable dishware) into the sink, then setting the pizza box on top of her little trash can pushed up against the side of the counter, then deemed that as good of a job at clean-up as it was going to get, and set off towards her room, wanting nothing more than to just collapse onto her mattress and curl up in one of her comfortable blankets and put this really weird day behind her.

* * *

Caleb lingered outside of her door for a moment, listening to the soft scrape of her feet as she walked around doing whatever. Then he turned abruptly on his heel and moved away, ambling down the hall at a leisurely pace as his mind worked.

He’d thought all was well, but something had clearly gone awry. That bit in the news had cheered him up immensely - nobody had any leads, and they wouldn’t, because there was no way in hell he’d left any sort of identification marks and his abilities were just mystifying (and concealed) enough to keep them puzzling and scrambling over it. But it’d also humbled him - twice in one day was bad, but that had been due to his neglect of his appetite. Either way, it served as a reminder to steady that - keep himself on track with a healthy diet.

That wasn’t what he was worried about, though. Hell, he wasn’t even necessarily worried, but something about Jenna - in just the span of the couple of hours it had been since he’d seen her, something had changed. He’d always believed her to be nothing more than froth - light, insubstantial, always good for a laugh or smile but not much else, and that’s precisely why he’d gravitated towards her. Tonight, though, something had changed - gone was that frivolity, and mirth, and it had been replaced by someone exhausted and spent and on edge for whatever reason (he didn’t accept the one she’d offered him - there was probably some truth to all of his work impacting her, but it wasn’t the whole story, not one bit). 

She’d been suspicious, and uneasy; he’d seen it in her occasional gaze and in the way she’d constantly, nervously downed glass after glass of cider, and how her smiles weren’t as big and broad as they usually were. Noticing minute details like that was his specialty - even more so when they were coming from a person who was usually an open book. 

That was bothersome, and he mulled that over as he trotted down the steps. He didn’t want to prolong or draw out her unease, or exacerbate it, so that just meant he’d have to get a move on to finish his work because otherwise, it would’ve all been for naught. He was sure he could find another subject, but he’d spent months working on and manipulating her, and the last thing he intended to do was throw that all out. So, in essence, all he had to do to nip this particular little problem in the bud, was put in some more time in his workshop - really amp up the pace at which he’d been working.

Caleb paused at the foot of the stairs and glanced down the hallway that led to more apartments. He could just duck down there to his place and shelve the problem for now and get some rest, because working overdrive and frying himself would do no good, but he also knew he was very well capable of indulging in hours of work especially because it was a necessity, damn it, and there was no way he was going to let Jenna slip out of his grasp; or he could trot down the stairs and head out to his lounge and do the work that had been fueling his fire. The work that would make HYDRA scramble all over themselves to welcome him back into their fold. 

There wasn't even a choice to make, really.

Caleb rounded the banister and went down the stairs. 


	7. Chapter 7

It was a few minutes short of one in the morning when Kurt glanced at the large wall clock mounted over the fireplace. A tiny headache throbbed in his temples and a minor stiffness was beginning to seep into his fingers, but otherwise he was fine. He was unsurprised that breaking into HYDRA’s online database had taken a tremendous amount of time and careful manipulation - their security certainly was no joke - but he’d weaseled through anyhow and now had a vast expanse of vital, and dangerous, information at his fingertips.

That was unnerving, though, thinking about all of the tech they had on hand. For all he knew, someone was aware of what he was doing and tracking his every movement and getting ready to do whatever would be necessary to stop him. He didn’t like thinking about that - about painting an enormous red target on his back - but he guessed that was a mandatory part included in the job description of ‘good guy.’

Kurt leaned back in his seat, laptop (plugged into an outlet nearby with the cord snaking over the armchair) balanced on his thighs. He cracked his fingers - the series of sharp pops rang out - and he picked up the mug wedged between the side of his leg and the chair and downed the rest of his third cup of coffee before getting back to work.

He’d developed something of a plan - he intended to delve into the system and see if there was any info pertaining to San Francisco, be it any segments or groups or members or whatever the hell because scrutinizing and scouring the entire database would be an enormous task to shoulder. He would, of course, if he had to, but narrowing the scope (and broadening it as was needed) would be a fine first step.

He came to the log-in page and glanced briefly at an overturned palm, on which he’d scribbled some info he’d gleaned during his first exploration. Earlier, he’d created a faux identity - according to HYDRA, he was now Michael Chambers (a name he’d pulled out of the nearest book on the bookshelf), a passionate, loyal soldier who had been with them for an impressive number of years. He took great liberty in crafting his fake background and identity, and even attached something that looked like a legitimate ID photo for good measure. The fake soldier was embedded into the system and even had his own credentials, including an ID number and password, both of which followed the standard of HYDRA’s system. He used both to log into the database now. He’d ensured himself high enough clearance to access everything he needed. Granted, creating the character hadn’t been necessary - he was certain he could’ve wriggled in without it - but it was just an extra safety precaution. 

So ‘Michael Chambers’ logged in, and for a petrifying moment as the screen loaded, an intrusive and violently panicked thought fluttered into his head of being denied access and triggering some sort of electronic alarm that would have HYDRA bursting through the door at any second.

He registered how inane that thought was, and that enabled him to keep his cool and squash it. He settled back into his chair and when the database came blinking into view, Kurt smiled.

He didn’t hesitate to immediately punch in some key words into the search engine at the top of the screen - ‘san francisco.’ Results showed pages upon pages of results, and Kurt clicked through a few, immediately noticing that several profiles also contained a ‘deceased’ tag (including a brief description of their deaths but he ignored that because it made him feel off and chilled), and San Francisco was attached to a ‘hometown’ label and often didn’t match the ‘current location’ tag. He clicked back, returned to the search engine, thought for a moment, then strung together a fragment of words (‘alive currently located san francisco’) and got a much shorter list of results.

Still, though; seeing how many agents were lurking, unseen, in the city made him uneasy. He clicked through a few profiles and noted the statuses (‘retired,’ ‘in service,’ ‘on leave;’ there was something so….ordinarily about all of it) and notes that were attached below all of the significant personal and professional data that made up the bios. A few profiles included photos - as per the ‘under surveillance’ tag written in the notes section.

Kurt continued to scroll, wondering who of these people could be a viable threat - in this particular instance, anyways - and then came to the end of the search results. He sat back, frowning - then realized he’d missed something. There was an additional link towards the bottom of the page - in small font, but in all-caps and red lettering, was the word ‘DANGER.’ 

And, of course, that’s one of the many compelling words that certain people cannot resist, and Kurt was one of them. He immediately clicked on the link.

One result popped up.

Kurt peered at an small, square ID photo of a man with a broad face and buzzed hair and eyes that were shockingly pale. He read the info displayed onscreen with an ever-deepening frown, and his body slowly hunched over his computer.

_**NAME:** Caleb Glen Baker _

_**BIRTHDATE:** 03/17/85 _

_**STATUS** : Alive; exiled _

_**HOMETOWN:** Omaha, NE _

_**CURRENT LOCATION:** San Francisco, CA _

_**SERVICE:** Bioengineered weapon of war; thermal detection and manipulation. Stealth operative; assassin. _

_**NOTES:** Diligent soldier; incredibly volatile. Prone to temper. Intelligent, driven, passionate. Volunteered for Test #323 - successful. Exiled due to escalating temperament, failed missions and murders friendly and hostile, and inconvenience due to newfound diet requiring sacrifice. Under strict surveillance.  _

Kurt’s heart stuttered. Thermal detection and manipulation. The ability to maneuver and control heat - and energy from heat - and probably do something like drain it, too. He stared at the ID photo for a moment, then scrolled down to the plethora of photographs a HYDRA operative had taken. The first few were of him during his stint with the operation. There was a complete shot of his ID photo - he was standing against a plain gray background, hands at his sides, looking stern. The second was of him dressed in black military garb, holding a massive gun. The third was of him sitting in what looked like a containment cage with plexiglass walls and metal borders - he was sitting on a bench in the middle of the enormous octagon with his head in his hands. The fourth was one Kurt lingered on with mystified horror -it was of Caleb bracing someone against the wall and it looked oddly intimate; his face was pressed against their neck and had it not been for the hands blurred in motion clearly attempting to strike him, it would’ve looked like a picture of two lovers locked in embrace. That was the end of the military photos and for a minute Kurt didn’t want to continue. That confirmed it. 

This was the guy they were after.

He inhaled, then forced himself to continue scrolling. The rest of the photos were of him under surveillance, taken in secrecy, and he’d changed - his hair was longer, and thicker, and for the first couple of photos he had a good growth of facial hair lining his jaw. After the fifth or sixth shot, though, he was clean-shaven. There was a snap of him hefting boxes into an apartment complex. There was another of him walking somewhere with a plastic bag hanging from his arm. 

Kurt almost scrolled past another picture, his fingers moving at a swift speed now because there was no point because he knew, this was the guy, there was no flex on it, this was the man bouncing around the city and leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. 

Something caught his eye, though, and he snapped abruptly back.

This was a discreet, through-the-window voyeuristic snapshot. The curtains were drawn back, and in plain view stood Caleb, tipping what looked like a beer to his lips, and facing him was a woman. A woman with wavy brown hair. He couldn’t really see her eyes, but he knew they were hazel - a soft brownspeckled with light green. And that smile. He knew that smile.

He zoomed in on the photo. Each movement fell off. And numb. And when he zeroed in on the people in the window, even though he’d already known, doing that reaffirmed it.

The woman in Caleb’s apartment, grinning the grin he was all too familiar with and holding a drink of her own was Jenna Perry. 

* * *

 Jenna went to bed at eight o’clock, and tossed and turned and fiddled with her phone and by the time she actually looked at the clock on her phone, it was nearing nine thirty. She groaned, tossed her phone aside, slid out from under her thick cozy comforter and went to nab that book she’d been dying to finish. She crawled back into bed in her comfy gray sweats and oversized shirt, and nestled back into her pillows and blanket, and turned on her lamp and delved into her book.

Initially, she hadn’t expected to be able to focus - she’d anticipated to see the words swimming nonsensically around and round and had fully expected to find herself rereading the same paragraph over and over again because it just didn’t click but, lo and behold, once her eyes skimmed over the first sentence, she was drawn.

So she read, and she read, and she read, and by the time she’d finished off the epilogue and was closing the book shut and reaching for her phone and not feeling sleepy one bit (that gnawing bite in her gut was as persistent as ever), she saw it was a quarter to one. 

She tossed her book onto her nightstand and flopped back onto her bed and braced both hands to her face and groaned into them. She just wanted to sleep, but she couldn’t, because she wasn’t tired, because there was that uneasy feeling churning in her gut and making her feel borderline nauseous. She took a couple of minutes and just laid there, hoping she’d drift off, but when that didn’t happen, she slid out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. She twisted the cap, and took a long swig, and felt the cool tile of her linoleum underneath her bare feet, and wondered absently if she shouldn’t whip up some hot cocoa and maybe that would help lull her, but then her phone rang. 

Jenna instinctively moved back into her bedroom, puzzled - and disconcerted -by such a late-night call. She picked up her cell, checked the number, didn’t recognize it, and hesitated before answering it. “Hello?”

“Jenna?”

She hadn’t expected to hear that particular voice at that particular time and it surprised her. “Kurt?”

“I am not waking you?”

His accent was thick and his English very pronounced and formal and stilted - so something was clearly up, and that concerned her. “No, not at all. Couldn’t sleep. You okay? What’s going on?” And did this call have anything to do with how he’d gone tearing out of the café earlier? 

“I think…” Kurt paused for a minute, and floundered. “I think I found something you need to see.”

Jenna stood by her bed, frowning at nothing. “What?”

Kurt launched into a quick explanation of what he’d been doing for the past couple of hours and where he was - leaving out specific details, because he wanted to flesh it out in person - but giving her the gist. 

“Oh my god,” Jenna said breathlessly. “You found him? You found the guy? Hot damn. What’re you guys going to do now?” The rational answer, to her, seemed to be ‘call the police’ but maybe they hadn’t opted to do that for a reason. One she couldn’t quite fathom, but a reason all the same. 

“Well,” Kurt responded, still sounding floored. “That is depending. I have not told anyone yet - guys are scouting city and Pyms are sleeping. But -“ He cut himself off. “Is it possible for you to drive down here?”

“Yeah,” Jenna said immediately, because it was, and her heart had picked up and galloped into a quick, unsteady pace. She had no earthly idea what it was that she needed to see so direly, but it was clearly important. And maybe - though this was a farfetched idea, it was still a promising one - it had something to do with the unease coursing through her veins. “Absolutely. Where’s the house at?” She tucked her phone between her shoulder and ear and yanked open her nightstand to fish out her car keys and wallet - she stowed them close at hand just to feel safe. 

Kurt named the obscure coast Janet and Hank had parked their house at, and offered some direction - a dense forest blockaded the way to the beach, but there was a trail that snaked all the way from the road to the seashore. 

“Got it,” She said, turning to her closet and tugging out a jacket and shrugging it on and dumping her keys and wallet into one of the pockets. She didn’t feel uneasy now so much as she did nervous and anticipatory and befuddled. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

* * *

Jenna did her best to obscure her car as best as she could, but she was still ultimately parked off of the side of the road, and, despite the late hour, she anticipated returning to see a ticket wedged under one of the windshield wipers. She climbed out of her car, locked it, pulled her jacket tighter around her because the night was chilly - not freezing, but brisk - and approached the forest looming in front of her.

Visibility was minimal. The sky overhead was a rich, inky navy blue so dark it bordered on black, and the moon was nothing more than a curved sliver, so there was little to no natural light to go by. She slipped her phone out of her pocket and tapped on the flashlight, using that to scan the dense wall of trees for any sign of a break or the trail Kurt had mentioned. She paced along until she discovered a small spot of space between two shrubs, and, given that he’d warned her it was obscure, she figured that was it and plunged into the darkened forest.

She kept her flashlight handy so she didn’t trip - the last thing she wanted was to fetch her foot up against a root, go tumbling, and bloody her nose - and kept to the small ribbon of dirt littered with undergrowth and fallen leaves and twigs that served as her guiding path. She listened to the wind as it soughed through the trees and rustled branches thick and resplendent with leaves, and she listened to the sounds of the crickets chirruping and unseen animals scurrying about. She tried to focus on the crisp sweetness of the night air rather than let her mind run away by envisioning all of the things that could be lurking within the dense wooded heart of the forest, and it worked - but she picked up the pace all the same.

She didn’t check her phone, because she knew that would make the walk seem that much longer, and instead plowed on, grimly determined, and inhaling deeply to take in the sweet natural scent - now tinged with that salty air belonging uniquely to the ocean - and remind herself to focus, and soon she found herself stumbling from a floor of leaves to one of sand. 

Jenna froze on the boundary between forest and ocean, her breath promptly stolen away. Not just by the enormous folk Victorian house looming to her left, but by the never-ending sprawl of the ocean stretching and blanketing the earth. The enormous sheet of water - bright blue by day, rich black by night - rippled and lapped at the shore, the constant, windy whooshing sounds immediately overwhelming every other noise. Occasionally, the pinprick of moon hanging above seemed to catch on the waves and throw off sharp, glittering, blinking white crystals, and she stood there for a minute, dazzled, taken aback with her breath caught in her throat and for a moment everything she’d been feeling wiped clean out of her head - 

Until a new sound pierced the air, and it wasn’t natural - it was the sound of a door being pulled shut. That managed to yank her back to reality, and she turned to the house - whistling softly because it really was a nice place - and saw a shadow slip down the steps.

Jenna made a mental note to come back here later during the day, then shelved all thoughts about the splendor and beauty of nature out of her head and crossed the beach to meet the shadow at the foot of the steps. “Hey,” She said, looking up, and seeing details begin to swim into shaded view reminded her of the solemnity of his call despite the way her heart thrilled and the breathlessness of her voice. This was nopleasure visit. Not that pleasure was any part of it. Well, pleasure in terms of being happy to see each other and being around each other, yes, but not in the sensual definition of pleasure - Jenna inwardly swore and severed that tangled, flustered train of thought. _Focus,_ she thought sharply, as Kurt greeted her - his voice quiet. 

They headed up the steps together and he gently popped open the door, and they slid inside, and Jenna was again stunned by the ornate, rich decor and even as they wound their way down the hall and towards the living room she couldn’t help circling a few times and letting her gaze skip over all of the decor, but before she could lose herself in this befuddled awe that a place that looked like a Victorian museum was actually a home where people lived, she spun right back around and ducked into the living room. 

Kurt had his laptop balanced on the flat of his palm and supported the back with his other hand. He looked at Jenna and his gaze was inscrutable and that disconcerted her. Her brow crumpled and she approached with nervousness prickling at her. “What’s going on, Kurt?”

He angled the laptop towards her, and her gaze instinctively flicked towards the screen.

Displayed on it was a photograph - a picture of her and Caleb standing in his apartment, nursing drinks and smiling and laughing. She studied it for a minute, only befuddled - but then her blood chilled. She looked at Kurt. “What is this?” She asked, voice thin and subdued.

Kurt exited from the photograph, exposing the rest of the page - the rest of Caleb’s bio. 

Jenna read it through once, stared at it, then read it again, Her mind was beginning to whir - the gears were chugging along and picking up pace and going by way too quickly - and she could feel her heart thudding in her chest but still she stared at it, not wanting to comprehend but understanding every single word. “What the hell,” She said flatly.

“This man,” Kurt said gently, looking at her. “That you know is ex-HYDRA operative. Forced out of service due to unpredictability in regards to personality and abilities they gave him. Including -“

“The power to manipulate heat,” Jenna finished - her voice was still flat and dull and her eyes glazed with shock.

Kurt said nothing.

Jenna stared. She was having trouble processing the fact that this guy - this murderer - this member of an incredibly volatile and disruptive and violent organization - was her friend. She’d let him into her apartment countless times. She’d stayed in his just as frequently, if not more so. They’d eaten together. They’d talked about everything and nothing. They’d helped each other out when it came to spring cleaning because neither of them could tolerate it.

Her mind flashed back to just a few hours ago, when they’d been curled up on the couch watching TV and happily munching on pizza, and some kind of noise slipped through her lips - something between a grunt and a groan and a curse. 

Kurt looked at her, eyebrows knitting together, concern glinting in those shrewd brown eyes of his. “Jenna -“

“Oh my god.” Jenna stepped away from the laptop and her stomach churned and she felt like she was going to be sick. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my _god.”_ Her voice was building - mounting - but she had to swallow it. When she spoke again, her petrified eyes on Kurt, it was quiet but quavering. “That’s real? Caleb’s the one who - who’s been doing all of this? Caleb’s a part of HYDRA, for fuck’s sake?”

Kurt set the laptop on the coffee table and closed it. “Yes,” He affirmed and his voice was still gentle. “But you didn’t know -“

Jenna looked at him and her eyes were hurt but also blazing with a fury that shut him up. “That doesn’t matter!” It took another conscious attempt to keep her voice down. Now that everything had clicked, she couldn’t believe how unbelievably stupid - and naive - and _stupid_ she’d been. Hell, she’d just watched a report about the crimes that the guy sitting next to her had committed and she hadn’t been any the wiser! She’d been friends with a murderer, with someone who killed and stole people’s lives away from them - she’d drank with him, she’d eaten with him, she’d hung out with him! All of it whipped around and around in her head, stirring her into a frenzy, and she backed away until she bumped abruptly into a bookshelf and though the urge to start ripping all of the books down in her anger was so tempting she just balled her hands into fists, her nails biting into her skin, because even through her blind fog of rage she could acknowledge that destroying someone else’s property wasn’t going to solve anything.

She was angry. She was furious. She was pissed. At herself. 

Kurt stepped forward. “You didn’t know,” He repeated. “And there is no way guy like that was going to tell you anything about past.”

His rationality didn’t help matters because what she was feeling was all emotion. She stood there, nails digging into her skin, angry tears welling up in her eyes, and she didn’t look at him but through him - her gaze bored right through as if he wasn’t even there. She wanted to throw something - to knock something over - to yell - but all she could do was stand there and revel in how much of an idiot she’d been.

“That doesn’t change the fact that - oh, god. He was in my _apartment._ I voluntarily let him into my _home._ We were _friends.”_ All of it came tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop herself and with it, her fury drained from her system, and her hands unfurled, and the sharp spark in her eyes died out, and she slumped against the bookshelf and looked at Kurt with a deep sadness. “I know you can argue that I didn’t know all damn day long and that’s the truth, but…” She shook her head. She didn’t know how to articulate the fact that none of it meant anything when compared to the fact that it had all happened. 

Kurt, hands in his pocket, approached her. “Forgive me for overstepping, but blaming yourself for this - for something there is no possible way you could have known - is unfair. To you. You should not have to take brunt of your anger for something he did. For who he is. That is not your responsibility or obligation, and this in no way reflects on you. You thought he was your friend.”

Jenna grimaced at that, lips curling, because hearing that made her feel naive. “I did, but -“

He only looked at her, and she met his gaze, and wilted against the shelf further because what she’d been about to say would only loop back to everything that had made her so angry and so sad in that whiplash-inducing span of seconds. Damn him and his levelheaded rationale. As soon as that thought flickered into her mind, she knew she didn’t mean it. “I did,” was all she finished with. 

“It was not as if you were accessory to his crimes,” Kurt continued, “Or harboring him. Or being accomplice. You were being his _friend._ And it is on him for doing this to you. Everything he has done is on him. The only thing on us is,” He said, and a small grim smile played at his lips. “Stopping the bastard.”

That last bit made her chuff sardonic laughter. 

“And if you want to get back at him for everything he’s done, not just to you but to all of those people,” Kurt said, “Then best way to do that is by taking him down.”

Jenna looked at him and listened to the fervor in his voice and offered a smile - a weak one, but a smile, nonetheless, and he felt his heart give seeing it again. “Y’know, Goreshter, you’re pretty damn eloquent.” 

“Not often I get the chance, what with friend like Luis being eloquent enough for all of us,” Kurt said goodnaturedly, and grinned at her, and that smile relaxed her, and her weak little one grew in response, and for a minute they both just looked and smiled at each other.

“Alright,” Jenna said once she’d regained herself. She straightened up from the bookshelf and took a deep breath and looked at him. “Do you think, at any point in our ‘stopping the bastard’ plan, I’ll have the opportunity to punch him? In the face? Or the stomach? Or any point between his head and his toes?”

“Let’s figure out punching stuff in minute,” Kurt suggested, even though his lips had quirked into a grin that he didn’t bother fighting off.

“Right.” Jenna sighed and stuffed her hands in her pockets. “So, what now? Call the police? Get them to just….book him?”

Kurt shook his head. “No. Would be risky. We don’t know anything about strength of his power or what he can do. Not risking anymore lives is probably good idea.”

Jenna frowned. “But who do we send, then? I mean, whatever way you look at it, it’s kinda a risky operation.” She grimaced at the flippancy of her own voice. 

Kurt opened his mouth, then paused, and closed it. He frowned down at his hands - he was twirling the ring finger on his right hand around and around. He looked back up at her. “I can’t tell you much because it is not my secret to share,” He admitted. “But there are other people. Like Caleb. Only good.”

Jenna blinked, brows raised. “Really?”

“Sort of. Not in terms of organic abilities, per se, but….tech.” That seemed to be about the limit of what he was going to share, and Jenna only nodded, though her curiosity nipped at her.

“So, in that case,” Jenna said, running a hand through her disheveled hair. “What do we do now? Wait for the guys to get back and break it to them when they do?” 

That seemed to illuminate something in Kurt’s face and he swore - or, at least, she assumed what came spilling out of his mouth was a curse word, given that it was in Russian. He slipped a hand in his pocket and yanked out his phone and rapidly - with a dexterity that never failed to surprise her - punched in a number. “Thank you for reminding me,” He said, then dissolved into a muttered string of Russian, accompanying it with a shake of his head, and Jenna only looked at him, brows raised, lips quirked.

He held the phone up to his ear - listened to it ring once, twice, three times - then spoke. “Dave? You guys can call it quit. We found him.”

Jenna eyeballed him skeptically at her inclusion - she’d done nothing thus far but react.

He continued. “Yes. He’s former member of - actually, come back. We should talk in person.” 

Dave chattered something on the other end and Kurt looked at Jenna and she returned his gaze steadily, eyebrows arching again. “No, I’m using right pronoun,” He said with an edge of exasperation in his voice. “I am not alone. Not important. Just hurry back.” With that, he ended the call, and looked at her with weary amusement on his face. “I probably should have done that sooner.”

Jenna chuckled soft laughter at that. “Yeah, probably,” She returned lightly, but her frivolity depleted again and she wilted, suddenly feeling all of the exhaustion that she’d been yearning to have a few hours prior rush back into her system and drown her in its overwhelmingly powerful grasp. She stared at the closed laptop sitting on the table and all of the information it contained and felt a brief surge of anger pulsate through her again but now it wasn’t so hot and fiery and volatile so much as it was a dull throb.

They stood there - she leaning against the bookshelf, he by her side - and he followed her gaze to the laptop, but said nothing. The silence was nowhere near uncomfortable, but it was rife with that tension that follows an explosion of emotion. 

Kurt broke the silence with a yawn that he stifled by pressing his hand to his mouth, flashing a glimpse of his tattoo. “I don’t know when guys will be back,” He said, “But I think I’m going to close eyes for a minute.”

Jenna lowered her gaze to the couches and noticed just how plump and cozy they looked. “Yeah,” She said, before her eyes bounced back up to his face and she noticed the slight lines of exhaustion under his eyes and the weariness just emanating from his face. “Get some rest. I might join you.” She closed her eyes and sighed as soon as the words slipped out. “Not, y’know, like whatever that might mean. I might close my eyes for awhile, too. So long as whoever owns this place - the Pyms, right? - doesn’t mind a complete and total stranger crashing on their couch.” She smiled wryly at that last bit.

That made Kurt smile. “It’s happened before. I think they are used to it, at this point.”

Jenna laughed and nodded - that reassured her - and shifted up and off of the bookshelf to head towards that exquisitely comfortable sofa that looked more and more delightful by the minute. She settled down onto it and groaned as soon as she touched the cushions because they were even softer than she’d anticipated and absolutely wonderful. Kurt settled back into the armchair he’d claimed, and stretched out those sore and stiff long legs of his, and folded his hands over his stomach and let his head fall back and within a few minutes or so of doing that, he was out.

Jenna’d hoped to fade out as soon as she was comfortable, but laying on her side afforded her a view of the computer, and that only reminded her of Caleb, and that made her stomach turn. She was too tired for this shit - too tired to continue being battered by wave after wave of debilitating emotion. So she flipped an angry middle finger in the direction of the laptop, then flopped over onto her other side so she was pressed against the back of the couch. She tucked an arm under her head, closed her eyes, and finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep. 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Jenna woke with a start, jerking out of unconsciousness with a breathy gasp. She rolled onto her back, her legs aching and tingling with painful stiffness after having been jackknifed for so long, and for a moment, given that the room was plunged into darkness, she had no earthly idea where she was. Her head was blurred and bleary with sleep, and she pawed at the slight sheen of sweat on her forehead - it had been mashed into the cushions and she was certain there were red marks creasing her cheeks and forehead - before rubbing at her eyes and simply waiting as her brain slowly whirred back to life.

She sat up, and as she did so, everything hit her and she remembered Kurt’s call and the laptop and everything she’d learned about Caleb, and she grimaced and let herself fall back against the couch and scrubbed at her face with her hands and took a couple of seconds to gather her bearings. Feeling groggy in that way following unsatisfying, brief sleep, and internally exhausted from having to process everything that she’d absorbed that night, she didn’t want to get up from the couch, but sitting here in the dark would serve to do nothing.

So Jenna rose, and winced at the tight discomfort in her legs, then turned towards the faint glow of light she could see poking from the hall. She fumbled her way through the inky darkness, and hissed a sharp swear when pain exploded in her shin. She bent over, and her hand braced against smooth wood, and she knew she’d fetched up against the coffee table, and she took a second to let the dull pain abate before continuing on her way - now at a snail’s pace so as to avoid any more incidents.

Jenna emerged into the hallway and fetched a soft sigh of relief that she’d escaped without banging herself up any more. She shuffled down the hall and followed the light - and the slight sounds emerging from the source; indistinct murmurs and the shuffling of feet and scraping of chairs.

“….pretty straightforward. Scott and Hope can just track him down and find his place and swoop in and kick his ass, right?”

Jenna knew that voice - even as edged with weariness as it was. Luis.

“Nah, man.” And there was Dave. “I don’t think there can be any swooping. This dude’s super dangerous, right? So it’d probably be better to just creep up on him and blindside him. I dunno if Scott’s real good at the blindsiding, no matter what size he is. Hope could do it no doubt but still, I don’t think that’s the best way to go.”

“And what, bro, _is_ the best way?”

Jenna listened as they dissolved into squabbling bickers that had no real substance and couldn’t help grinning because, seriously, these guys were great, and she was about to slip into the dining room when the light to the hallway flickered on and startled her.

She turned slowly to see a man standing at the foot of the stairs, looking perturbed and fantastically grumpy, with downy white hair and a salt-and-pepper goatee, dressed in a robe. Following him, trotting down the stairs, was a woman with hair just as white as his, and shocking gray-blue eyes, and she was knotting the straps of her robe, as well, and then looked up and saw Jenna and looked only mildly surprised.

Jenna realized the silence was spinning out far too long and offered a sheepish grin. “Uh, hi. I’m….well aware that this is very, _very_ weird, and I’m so sorry to come barging into your place and for, uh, crashing on your couch as a complete and total stranger.”

The man grunted. “Apparently we’re running a bed-and-breakfast, so don’t even worry about it.” His voice was gravelly and biting, and he shuffled towards the room behind Jenna without a second thought.

Her gaze followed him and she watched him disappear into the room and heard the guys immediately scramble, but then her eyes bounced back to the woman. “Don’t mind him,” She said, approaching Jenna. “That’s just how he is.”

Jenna grinned, and enjoyed the way the woman winked and made her feel comfortable and at ease. It dimmed, though. “I…am kinda sorry, though. No, not ‘kinda,’ I am, it’s just - Kurt called me, and it was late, and we -“

She dismissed her with a shake of her head. “You don’t have to explain. We’re used to house-crashers.” She smiled that warm smile again. “Janet Van Dyne.” She offered a hand.

Jenna, surprised by both the juxtaposition of the man who presumably was her husband and this woman with the dazzlingly sharp eyes who made her feel warm and welcome, and the straightforward acceptance of her presence. She took it and shook it. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jenna.” And then the lightbulb in her head went off, and she started, staring at Janet with wide eyes. “You’re - Janet Van Dyne, the SHIELD scientist. Oh my god. When Pym Tech exploded, there was a piece that aired about your work, and -“ Then it dawned on her that the grumpy old man who’d swept past her was Hank Pym. She’d vaguely remembered Kurt telling her this was their house, but it wasn’t until actually encountering them that she was floored by the reality of it all. She tapered off, embarrassed by her unraveled tongue, and felt warmth surge into her face.

Janet smiled reassuringly. “That would be me, yes. And you already met - encountered, actually, might be a better word for it - my husband, Hank.”

“Right.” Jenna felt a little loose in the knees. This was the woman who’d stretched quantum studies to an enormous scope - the woman whose progress and work had been untouchable. It was a little daunting standing here with her, really. “It’s really nice to meet you. And, seriously, I appreciate you letting me stay here even though I guess technically you might not have even known that I was here in the first place - “ _Damn_ her blabbering tongue! Why was she fixating on that? Was she not capable of saying anything else?

Janet waved a hand to clear and dismiss it. “No problem. Now let’s go see what they’re jabbering about.”

Jenna nodded, inwardly relieved that Janet was so flip and able to smoothly steer the conversation away from her awkwardness. She followed her into the room - still reeling - but turned her attention to the small, clustered group. Hank was holding the laptop in one hand and adjusting his glasses with the other, and Janet slipped over to his side to read over his shoulder. Luis was meandering around in an obvious attempt to keep himself alert and awake - and Dave was rocking back on a chair, hands folded over his stomach.

Kurt was standing in front of Hank, hands in his pockets, and he gave Janet a small, cordial nod, but then his gaze slid over to Jenna standing in the threshold and his expression softened and she ignored the way that made her heart jitter because acknowledging that on top of everything else would be too much. He excused himself - Hank only grunted in response - and slipped over to where she stood. “I cannot _believe,_ ” Jenna said when he’d approached. “That you’re chummy with Janet Van Dyne. Holy shit.”

“Not me so much as Scott,” Kurt corrected, but smiled all the same. “She is….”

“A badass?” Jenna blurted.

Kurt nodded. “Yes. You say it better than I can.”

Jenna shook her head and stomped down her inner awe and instead focused her full attention on Kurt. Seeing him - meeting those dark eyes of his - softened her, and she couldn’t help smiling, but she forced herself to focus. “So, what’d I miss?”

Kurt shrugged. “Not lot. Guys came back. Woke me up. I caught them up, and Scott and Hope are on their way back to catch up, too.”

Jenna nodded. “Okay, cool.” It felt like a lackluster thing to say in these circumstances. “I kinda overheard you guys bickering a little bit about what to do.”

Kurt chuffed laughter at that. “That was guys.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of Luis, who was poring over a painting hung on the wall, and Dave, who was falling asleep in his chair. “Trying to ‘debate’ what might be best way at stopping Baker. I didn’t want to speak because I preferred to wait for others.”

“Very reasonable,” Jenna said, smiling, but it ebbed when she felt that needling, uncomfortable sensation of being watched. Her gaze skipped past Kurt and, sure enough, at the front of the room, Hank was staring at her. His gaze was sharp and cynical and biting and made her squirm. “Why…” Jenna said in a low murmur so her lips hardly moved. “Is Hank Pym glaring daggers at me?”

“That,” Kurt said with amusement rife in his voice. “Is how he looks at everyone.”

“Huh,” Jenna said, looking at Kurt, not wanting to lock eyes with Hank because she wasn’t sure she could handle that.

“Hey,” Hank said, and both Kurt and Jenna looked in his direction - despite the fact that the latter sincerely didn’t want to. Once she did, though, she determined that she wasn’t going to drop her gaze so she did her best to meet his gaze steadily. “In one of these shots - why’re you with this Baker guy?

“Well, we definitely didn’t pose for it,” Jenna blurted before she could stop herself and internally felt herself shrivel when Hank’s glare deepened. “We’re - er, actually, we were - friends. And we live in the same apartment building. I guess that picture was taken when we were hanging out.”

Hank’s eyebrows arched suspiciously and Jenna swallowed nervously. “I’m not, like, with him or anything like that. In any kind of capacity. And I’m not involved with anything he’s doing or the group he was a part of. Hell, I pretty much didn’t know anything about him until tonight.”

“I can vouch for that,” Kurt said, and the straightforward confidence in his voice was unwavering.

Jenna smiled at him softly, thanking him for not elaborating on her little outburst with her eyes, and he returned it, and for a minute they were caught up - ensnared - in that weird little personal trap of theirs.

“Yeah,” Luis said, turning from where he’d been studying the painting, flashing a grin, his chipper voice puncturing the bubble around Jenna and Kurt. “You’re with us. The good guys. Right?”

“I’m pretty sure, yeah,” Jenna said, and the whole ‘with us’ label made her feel all sorts of warm, and she did her best to fight back an eager grin.

Hank only grunted and returned to his scouring of the database.

“And you said Scott and Hope are still out scouting?” Janet spoke, looking in Luis’s direction - Dave was passed out in his seat, head tipped forward and chin resting on his chest and snores easing out of his parted mouth.

“Yes ma’am,” Luis affirmed. “But they should be back - “

“Now,” A new voice spoke from behind Jenna and she instinctively, immediately sidestepped and turned and bumped against the wall to see Hope Van Dyne striding into the room, followed by Scott Lang - both of them dressed in peculiar suits that looked to be made out of leather or cordura. Jenna didn’t say a word - for the second time in forever, she was speechless. “Didn’t find anything. But you guys did?”

“Yes.” Janet took the computer from Hank and moved to her daughter’s side. Scott weaseled up next to them to peer at the screen. “Kurt broke into the system and found this man. Ex-HYDRA, bioengineered superhuman, who can manipulate thermal energy at will.”

“Oh, shit,” Scott breathed. “That’s gotta be the killer. He doesn’t have tech, but -“

“His body is his tech,” Hope said curtly and studied the screen, taking the computer from her mom, her frown deepening as she read and scanned.

Jenna stood off to the side with Kurt, both of them lingering at the threshold of the room, and they exchanged looks.

“So we found him. And now we track him down. Turn him in - but not to the police. If he’s as dangerous as HYDRA’s making him out to be, I think it’d be best if…” Hope shot Hank a hesitant look. “We turned him over to SHIELD.”

Hank said nothing and only looked at her, and the expression on his face was inscrutable.

“That’s all we can do,” Janet said, and gave her daughter’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “But not right this instant. He’s already filled his quota - more so, actually - than he usually does, so we have at least a week until he strikes again.”

“Maybe,” Hope said, but frowned. “But he was never unpredictable before tonight. The last few months, the bodies have always been found earlier Thursday morning - so that means he always did it on Wednesday. His schedule and the…number of victims are both out of whack. So I don’t think we should rely on previous cycles anymore.”

“But,” Scott piped up. “I think something we should ask ourselves is why this dude’s doing this in the first place.”

“He feeds off them,” Kurt spoke for the first time and heads swiveled to look at him - Jenna included. “The people. Their heat. He needs it to survive. I am guessing his body is at constant war with itself - he is burning up too much of his own heat by just being enhanced and needs to replenish it.”

The room fell silent, and the quiet only broke when Hank murmured a soft, terse “Good lord.”

“Wait.” Luis looked at Kurt, perturbed. “You’re tellin’ me this dude’s basically a cannibal, man?”

Kurt nodded grimly.

“…’Good lord’ is right, Dr. Pym.”

“So, we’ve got an actual cannibal on our hands,” Scott said in a sardonically chipper voice. “How do we go about handling that?”

“We need to be careful, for one thing; we don’t know how dangerous this guy is. And, for another, we don’t know what he’s up to - I highly doubt this particular former HYDRA member came cruising up to San Fransisco to enjoy retirement,” Hope said dryly.

“Let’s sleep on it,” Janet spoke, voice firm and authoritative. “We’re not going to get anywhere just running off of fumes. And we can spare at least a few hours, right?”

Scott dropped into a chair and fetched a sigh heavy with relief and let his head tip back.

“Right,” Hope acquiesced reluctantly. “Scott, you know where the guest room is. Dave...can stay there, I guess, and Luis and Kurt -” She turned, spotted Jenna, and stiffened. “Who’re you?”

Jenna offered up an awkward smile and a tip of her hand. “I’m Jenna.”

“The woman in the photo,” Hope supplied immediately, and the expression on her face was inscrutable, and for a moment Jenna was floored by how much she looked like her father in that split instant.

“Yep,” She said, hoping she sounded glib and not as nervous as she was. Standing here, in this room, with Janet Van Dyne and Hope Van Dyne and Hank Pym, was beginning to fray at her nerves and really enforce the fact that she just simply didn’t belong here. “That would be me. But I’m not HYDRA or anything. I’m just here to - to help,” She finished lamely.

Hope nodded, still studying her, but Janet spoke up. “There’s another room upstairs. Someone can fight over that. And the living room’s open, too.”

“Now if you’ll excuse us,” Hank said, “We’re going to go back to sleep, and hopefully make it through a few hours without being interrupted.” He gave the whole room a pointed look. “We’ll talk about this later.”

He left the room, and Janet followed, and Hope gave Jenna one last lingering glance before turning and disappearing after her parents.

As soon as they’d left, Jenna exhaled and slumped against the threshold. “Well, that was….terrifying.”

“For record,” Kurt said, smiling. “It could have been worse.”

Jenna snorted light laughter at that. “Right. I could’ve been a smartass right to Hank’s face. Or made an absolute idiot of myself in front of both Janet and Hope. Oh, wait a minute.” She shook her head, but flashed Kurt a slight smile. “Thanks, though.”

“So, listen,” Luis piped up, rounding the table, then was interrupted with an enormous yawn. “I dunno if you guys wanna rock-paper-scissors for that room or what, but -”

“Count me out,” Jenna interrupted. “I’m too antsy to go back to sleep. And I was probably gonna make a run somewhere to pick up some stuff, anyways.” She was craving hot cocoa - and the familiarity of making it - something fierce. That would hopefully sooth her frazzled nerves, those of which had taken quite the beating today.

Luis tipped her a thumbs-up, then looked at Kurt. “You want the room?”

Kurt shook his head and tucked his hands in his pockets before giving Jenna a sidelong glance. “If okay with you,” He said, pulling her attention to him. “I would like to go with. I have things I would like to get, too.”

Jenna felt that nervous, fizzy warmth course through her. A late-night drive? Alone? With Kurt? That almost sounded better than the hot chocolate, frankly. She grinned warmly at him. “Yeah, that’s totally fine. I could use the company.”

“Sweet,” Luis whooped softly, and sidled past them to squeeze through the door. He clapped Kurt on the shoulder, gave Jenna a smile and a nod, then vanished down the hallway, leaving them - and Dave’s slumbering self - alone.

“Right,” Jenna said when the silence had spun out again and she was suddenly reminded of that one night, the night they’d met, when they’d been standing on the curb and staring at each other with that fervent intensity that was no doubt the precursor to a kiss because that energy was sizzling between them again and she had to puncture it before she did something stupid. So she cleared her throat and smiled. “Let’s get going.”

Kurt nodded, and she chalked the flush she thought she saw in his face up to something other than the very tempting thought she wanted to think but wouldn’t allow herself to, and they set off down the hallway.

It was a big corridor, and yet they walked close enough so that their arms brushed - but neither of them minded.

Not one bit.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super heavy on dialogue and exposition. Also a trigger warning: there are mentions of car crashes and death.

Jenna and Kurt slipped out of the front door of Pym’s place into the night air, and she inhaled deeply as soon as the sharply salty air washed over her. Neither of them spoke and instead listened to the steady gushing of the ocean waves, and the soft conversations of nocturnal creatures, and the rustle of the trees and shrubs as the wind whistled through them and rattled their branches and limbs. They trotted down the steps - those which were thin, successfully pushing them into each other, but neither of them minded the comforting pressure and warmth - and stepped onto the sand.

Kurt immediately veered towards the border separating forest and beach, and walked on a layer of leaves that crunched underneath his feet. He ambled slowly, hands in pockets, keeping pace with Jenna, who’d heeled off her shoes and hooked them on her fingers and opted to traipse through the sand - which was chilly, but not freezing, with lingering traces of permeating warmth from the sun baking it all day, and she liked the way it felt on the pads of her feet and the squishy softness of it was reassuring.

They walked - almost inched - towards the trailhead that wound back through the forest and towards Jenna’s car, neither of them wanting to rush the moment, given its tranquility. There was no need to puncture the silence with conversation, because simply sharing the experience was more than enough. 

In what was much too short a span of time, they found themselves at the minuscule break in the undergrowth of the woods, and Kurt paused at it as Jenna slipped back into her shoes. Together, they set back off down the trail which, given the way it snaked back and forth between the densely packed trees, forced them close together again. Jenna enjoyed the gentle press of his arm against hers and was reminded of the first day they’d met, when they’d been cozied and huddled up by his desk with their knees pressing, and she did her best to smother a laugh - there wasn’t anything really funny about this situation, per se, but it just served as a reminder of how elementary she was being. Skirting around feelings was something fantastically new to her, and something she never really did or was comfortable with because her heart was always stamped, boldly, on her sleeve, but something about the ‘simple’ act of turning to him and telling him “Oh, hey, just an FYI, I know we’ve only known each other for a couple of days but I’m really super into you, it’s kind of scary, but I think it’d be great if we could go out sometime or something because I’ve never felt this way about anyone before and wow’ was something she, the woman with no self-control or restraint, couldn’t bring herself to do.

In the meantime, though, this - this little stroll through the forest with comfortable silence bracketing and embracing them and their arms brushing back and forth against one another - this was wonderfully nice, and simple, and perfect, and she decided to enjoy the hell out of it and not worry about dissecting and analyzing her feelings.

They arrived at her car about fifteen minutes after they’d set foot into the woods, and Jenna grinned and gesticulated wildly to her plain, unobtrusive green sedan that blended into the night (and, thankfully, was void of any tickets wedged underneath one of the windshield wipers; so far as she could see, anyways). “Ta-da. My spiffy, fancy ride. The envy of car buffs all around the world.”

Kurt laughed at that and the gentle sound of his chuffed chortle made her feel all sorts of warm and fuzzy in that tingly way. He ran a hand down the body of it as he moved to the passenger side. “It’s nice,” He remarked.

Jenna snorted at that as she fished her keys out of her jacket pocket and unlocked the car with a chipper beep. “Thank you for saying so, but you don’t have to lie. It’s no…” She floundered for a minute, then grimaced. “Insert fancy car name here.”

Kurt laughed, and they slid into the car.

As soon as Jenna buckled in, she took one look at her center console and cupholders stuffed with crumpled receipts and loose change and an empty plastic bottle and grimaced. It wasn’t a pigsty, per se, but it was certainly a place a pig would enjoy occupying for a brief amount of time. A pig-rental, as it were. “Shit. I really should’ve cleaned up. Sorry about that.”

Kurt waved a dismissive hand. “You forget I lived in apartment with three other guys,” He said, and smiled, and she looked over at him, and he looked scrunched up in the seat because the car was tiny and he was long-limbed but he also didn’t look cramped he just looked - cute. And then he arched an eyebrow at her and that served to snap her to the present and she cleared her throat and laughed and quickly focused on cajoling her sedan to life.

“Alright, I’m gonna need you to be my navigator,” Jenna said, hands on the wheel, engine thrumming, car rumbling. “‘Cause I have no idea where to go from here.”

Kurt nodded, slipped his phone out of his pocket, and pulled up directions to the nearest local market - a major chain that stayed open all day and night. He pulled up a map, and told her to make a left and stay on the highway for a good fifteen miles or so. Then she’d pull off onto an exit, make a right, drive down about five hundred feet, and the market would be on her left. With those directions on display and fresh in her mind, Jenna nodded, flipped on her turn signal (even though there was nothing behind her but forest, it was force of habit), and pulled out onto the empty road.

For a moment, there was silence, but then she hit a pothole and the car jounced rather violently and the little plush, stuffed, floppy-limbed giraffe she had mounted on the dashboard came tumbling down onto Kurt’s lap. He picked it up, turned it over in his long-limbed hands, then looked at her inquisitively. 

“That,” Jenna said, keeping her eyes on the road, though hyperaware of his gaze. “Was a gift from my aunt. She gave it to me when I was a baby, ‘cause apparently I thought giraffes were the shit.” A grin twitched at her lips. “We went to the zoo once and I guess - this is all according to testimony - I threw quite a hissy fit when they tried to wheel me away from the enclosure.” She guessed it was kind of weird to keep a present like that stowed in her car, but - she liked having the reminder, and it felt like…a safety net of sorts, and, in addition to all of that, it also served as a memorial. So it was a multipurpose giraffe. 

Kurt leaned forward to tuck the giraffe snugly back into place in the corner of the dashboard. “Your aunt?” He asked, though his voice was tentative - as if he didn’t want to pry.

That stirred up some kind of vague recollection, though, and she took her eyes off of the road - only for a second - to grin at him. “Oh, shit, yeah, I forgot I promised you I was gonna tell you my life story. You ready for this speech?”

Kurt nodded, feigning solemnity, and intertwined his fingers together to crack them, as if in preparation for a fight, then followed that with a roll of his neck.

Jenna laughed at that. “Good, you’re ready,” She joked, then looked back out on the enormously empty and vast stretch of road unspooling out before them. She took a split second to take personal inventory and discovered, to her pleasure, that she didn’t feel weird or apprehensive or uncomfortable about what she was going to talk about at all. She’d told Caleb a great deal about herself and her life; not all of it, but a considerable chunk, and even then she’d been kind of squirmy and anxious about it, but here, with Kurt, there was nothing but warm, gentle comfortability. “So, I was born in San Diego. I was kind-of-sort-of-most-definitely an unexpected….surprise, because my mom and the guy she was with at the time - my dad - had always been super duper cautious about that kind of thing. They’d been going out for awhile - a year and a half, I think - but big news like that can…affect people differently, and I guess my mom didn’t know him as well as she thought she did, because as soon as she told him the news, he split. Just completely up and vanished. Wouldn’t answer my mom’s calls, quit his job, didn’t even leave his new address with his parents, nothing like that. Just went completely off the radar.” 

Though she had her eyes on the road, she was well aware of Kurt’s gaze focused on her, and even without looking at him, she felt…listened to. It was wonderful and enabled her confidence in telling this stuff that she’d gnawed at for years but had inevitably suppressed with humor so as to convince whomever that it didn’t matter, that she was fine. “And my mom was already freaked out. Just the whole idea of her being pregnant panicked her, because she was bouncing from job to job and a little financially shaky, but it wasn’t just that. I just don’t think she was ready to be a mother in any kind of capacity, you know? I always think of it as her missing, like, some kind of maternity gene. Which, though I may or may not have had to retake my science courses in college but that’s neither here nor there, is definitely not how it works but it’s always the analogy I told myself. And I don’t fault her for that, at all, because that’s just how she is, but it’s tough, when you’re a little kid and you don’t have a dad and the mom you have is always distant and when you’re laying in bed and listening to her dull out on TV and tucking yourself in after reading yourself a bedtime story or making yourself microwave dinners and inevitably making a mess because the microwave is too high and you can’t reach and you’ve burn your hands trying to grab it when she’s working late, you can’t help but wonder.” 

Her tongue unfurled, but Jenna didn’t notice. She was lost in recollection. “I think the whole ‘that wasn’t who she was’ thing kind of developed when I was a teenager. I mean, there was always this constant undercurrent of ‘am I not good enough’ and ‘why doesn’t she want me’ and ‘what do I need to do to make her love me because I love her so much’ kind of thing, but I wasn’t super sociological - I guess - until I grew up a little bit. Though I’m pretty sure I’m still doing some of that,” She said wryly, a grin tugging at her lips, but then it flickered out. “And don’t get me wrong, I’m well-aware that I lucked out, all things considered, because things could’ve been much worse, and they were, and still are, all over the world, but - y’know. Even if you’re the most selfless person in the universe, it’s hard to even think about tackling global shit if you can’t even handle your own.” She could’ve lost herself in this swirling tangent but thrust herself back out of it. “Anyways, that’s enough psychology for one night. Where was I - oh! Well, yeah, okay, so my mom was always kind of distant and never really knew what to do with me and I think she just continually got more and more unnerved and unhinged, so one day she called her sister, Sasha, who came sweeping over because she was the big sister of their whole bunch and was always at the ready to help however she could even though she’d do so while ribbing the hell out of whoever it was that needed it but in that kind of gentle, loving way siblings do. And eventually my mom asked her to move in with us, and Sasha agreed because she wanted to spend some more time in the city rather than in the outskirts of the countryside anyways, so…” Jenna drummed her fingers against the steering wheel. “My aunt pretty much raised me, from four to sixteen. Everything else was kind of nondescript - just fine. Never great or fantastic but never abysmal and miserable. My mom and I would butt heads about a lot of things, but Sasha never mediated and just let us work things out ourselves, though nothing ever really got resolved and just kind of….hung in the air to fester.”

Kurt sat in the passenger seat and watched not the map on display on the phone in his hand, but her. He hadn’t looked at the map in the five or ten minutes since she’d started talking - his attention was all on her. 

“We both tried,” Jenna continued. “To make our weird mother-daughter thing work, but it just didn’t. I tried too hard, and pushed too hard, and she STILL didn’t know what to make of me, or how to go about parenting me, or how to respond to me trying so much, so things were just…tense. With my aunt there, though, all of the tense stuff kind of….softened, if that makes sense. And that’s how life was for awhile, until I turned sixteen.” 

Jenna stopped and let the quiet rumble of the car speak for her for a moment. She hadn’t talked this extensively - or this much - to anyone, so as she could recall, not even to Caleb. She’d given him the bare bones. And yet, here she was, dredging up all of this stuff that was beginning to tighten her chest and throat in that precursor-to-tears kind of way. 

Kurt said nothing - he didn’t gently push, or prod, but only sat there in silence.

She cleared her throat and continued. “Sash,” The nickname, pronounced like the silky strip of clothing, came rolling instinctively off her tongue. “Was on her way to visit her and my mom’s parents in the nursing home they were in, and…” She was choking up now. She took a shaky breath to steady herself and felt her eyes beginning to sting. She clutched tighter at the steering wheel as a reminder to get ahold of herself, but the road ahead was already beginning to get bleary. It had been thirteen years, and yet the wound was still ragged and raw and excruciatingly painful. She’d initially thought she could do it but clearly, she’d been wrong. She soldiered on, anyways. “And she was crossing a four-way intersection, and some asshole revved it and thought he could zip right through the red light and she…got in his way.” A massive behemoth of a truck versus a subcompact car was no contest. 

Jenna flashed back for a minute - she remembered her mom receiving the call and completely shutting down and turning into an apathetic robot running on autopilot. She’d been so confused and bewildered and constantly needling her, asking what was wrong, until she snapped and told her to stop, shut up, quit it with all of the questions, she’d be back in a minute and tell her then, and there was stuff to make sandwiches for dinner in the fridge, and with that she’d taken her purse and left without another word, leaving Jenna to stew in misery.

And when her mom had come back, looking numbed out of her mind with a cloudy, thick glaze in her eyes and walking stiffly and disjointedly, and collapsed onto the couch, Jenna had tentatively crept out of her bedroom with a million questions brewing on the tip of her tongue but remembering what her mom had said prior did her absolute damndest to keep from speaking but even then, she’d been cursed with a wily, independent set of lips, and all of it came spilling and pouring out. 

_What happened? Are you okay? Where’s Auntie Sash? Mom? What’s going on? Mom, you’re scaring me. Could you say something? Please? Anything?_

Question after question after question fired like a steady spout of bullets and yet she’d been unable to stop herself because her panic had begun to flare and once she lost control of the reigns of her emotions she was liable to just completely crumble to pieces, and that manifested in her inability to control her tongue.

Instead of snapping at her, though, her mom had just looked up and scooted to the edge of the couch and beckoned for Jenna to come closer and when she did, her mother had, for what Jenna believed to be one of very rare instances, grabbed her hand. The touch startled the hell out of her because her mother was a private person who relished her personal space and doing stuff like this was uncharacteristic - which served to worry her more. 

Jenna wasn’t even aware that the road had disappeared - as had her car, as had Kurt - and now she was a teenager again, sitting on the couch with her mom who was absolutely vacant, whose hand was chilly around hers, and listening as her mom said - bluntly, brusquely, because she’d never learned how to soften blows - that her aunt wouldn’t be coming home anymore because she was dead.

It took her a minute to register the silence, and not that of her memory but of the present - it snapped her to and she cleared her throat and the road came swimming back into focus. She’d been straying into the other lane and she quickly shifted back into the center of hers. “Sorry,” She said, voice thick and froggy. “Zoned out for a sec. But, uh, yeah. She died. And things got weirder. My mom pretty much lived at work, I finished high school, then needed a change of pace and went up to USF and majored in cinematography.” Everything came spilling out robotically - the intonation in her voice was flat and mechanical - but she did her best to stamp that out and squish the memories back into the storage closet at the back of her mind, and in doing so - and switching to converse about college - her voice picked up some of its pep again.

Kurt, who’d only been sitting there and looking at her with his consistently steady gaze, saw, in the dim darkness punctuated only by the headlights, a couple of thin lines of wetness glistening on the curve of her cheeks and, almost seeming to register that at precisely the same moment, Jenna pawed at her face with the back of her hand. 

To distract herself, she continued talking about college which, in all fairness, had been the best years of her life. It was there where she’d been given the room and freedom to grow and develop and nurture the personality that her aunt had tried to help blossom but her mom always seemed to shut down (“Can you take _anything_ seriously, Jenna? Even for a second? Or is that too much to ask of you?”). It was there where she’d been able to settle into herself, and people had accepted her for that, and she’d even had a boyfriend or two,but most important of all was the solid little cluster of friends who weren’t distant and cold and awkward and instead laughed at her jokes and were there when she needed them (and vice versa - they would go to her when she needed her, and that emotional connection was new and exciting) and the four years had gone by in a flash. She told Kurt some of that - bringing up a couple of notoriously funny stories and laughing at them - then finished with her graduating, then bouncing around from odd job to odd job, then lucking out and snagging a position at her current company, where she’d worked ever since.

“Yeah,” Jenna said, her voice tinged with irony, gaze still fixed on the road, a small smile playing on her lips. “That’s me, in a nutshell.” As if she hadn’t delivered a good twenty to thirty minute spiel. That particular fluttering thought made her grimace and she looked over at Kurt apologetically. “Didn’t mean to unload like that - sorry, but you’re….super easy to talk to, y’know? And, actually, thanks for listening and not, like, opening the door and flinging yourself out ‘cause I don’t remember the last time I actually talked about any of this stuff and getting it off of my chest is…” There were no words to describe it. As painful as bringing it up was, having spoken about it applied some aloe vera to the burn. “Yeah. Thank you.”

Kurt spoke for the first time in half an hour. “Nothing to thank me for,” He said simply, straightforwardly, and when she looked at him, his face was solemn but there was a softness in his eyes and in just the assured way that he said it that made her…comfortable. 

She slipped one hand off of the wheel, with which she was currently turning on the road that would lead to the big late night (or early morning) market, and, because she didn’t really have any words (she felt like trying to articulate what she was feeling would lead to nothing good - primarily in the form of nonsensical rambling - so she bit her tongue), she settled for patting his hand resting on the center console. 

It was kind of just an instinctive, in the moment sort of thing, and as soon as she did it she inwardly cursed herself because what if he wasn’t okay with it and what if she’d overstepped his boundaries and why the hell had she been compelled to do that in the first place - all of this came tumbling out as soon as that switch in her brain marked ‘overthink!’ flipped on. But, lo and behold, to her delighted surprise, his hand turned over and his fingers wove through hers and he gave the lightest of squeezes. Startled, she looked over at him, and the expression on his face was hard to read, but it clicked that this was his form of comforting, and she looked down at their interlocked hands and smiled and squeezed right back.

They pulled into a lot sparsely littered with only a couple of cars, but Jenna refused to pass judgment because, hey, here they were, doing precisely the same thing. She pulled into a spot, turning the wheel with one hand because her other was still entangled with Kurt’s (a fact that made her heart zip with delight), but didn’t switch the car off immediately and instead sat back in her seat and looked at their hands because, frankly, it seemed to be a good leeway into a conversation she had not expected to have and had even made the decision to actively avoid forty-five minutes ago, but life had a real funny way of turning on a dime, so here they were.

She shifted in her seat to face him, but before she could speak, his quiet voice punctured the silence. “Since we’re in spirit of getting things off chest,” He said slowly, then looked at her, and in the flickering yellow glow of the lamplight they’d parked under, she could read the apprehension - or was it tentative caution? what was the difference? - on his face. “Asking for friend,” He added, then smiled wryly, and she laughed at that because oh, god, the whole ‘asking for a friend’ disclaimer never worked, but she only nodded, and felt her heart begin to pick up an unsteady pace. “But…in some scenario -“

“A hypothetical,” She offered, and when he looked at her, she grinned and shrugged her shoulders. “I like the word. It reminds me, for whatever reason, of hypotenuse. Which reminds me of hippopotamus. So it’s a good word.” 

Kurt looked at her for a minute and Jenna felt her face flood with warmth. “Are you sure you wanna tell me whatever it is you’re getting ready to tell me?” She asked, shaking her head and snorting embarrassed laughter.

But Kurt, endeared as ever, nodded. “Yes,” He said simply and there was no wavering in his soft, confident voice and her heart seized a little bit at that. “But back to scenario - hypothetical,” He said, then paused, and corrected with a wide grin that flustered her to no end, “Hippopotamus, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Jenna said with a laugh and a nod. “Continue with the hippopotamus scenario.”

Kurt’s smile seemed to shrink, then, and he looked down at their hands, still entwined together. “But in hypothetical, what would you do, if…” He spoke slowly, clearly wanting to articulate his thoughts and frame them concisely. “If you met person who…you knew only for few days, and you yourself are not very….extroverted, but yet doing things like talking forever and walking too close and…” He nodded at their entangled hands. “That, do not feel weird but…natural. And normal. And something you want more of, if simply because it is something you are doing with this particular person. But it reminds you of how you are feeling about them and you do not quite know how to handle or process that or if you should tell them. What do you do?”

“First,” Jenna said, surprised she was able to speak with the way her breath had caught in her throat but finding it exceptionally easy because oh my god that very real spiel had hit everything she was feeling on the nose, too, and even considering that this attraction - and the feelings that had promptly developed with it - that had surged between them for nearly a week was reciprocated was almost too much for her to process. She gave his hand a squeeze to focus herself. “Tell your ‘friend’ thank you for saying that this,” She lifted their hands up. “Isn’t weird because I wanted to say something to that effect but I was worried if I did, _that_ would make it weird and I didn’t want that. Secondly, I think that whoever - whomever? - the person you’re talking aboutwould really, _really_ like hearing that because I know ‘that person’ and I can tell you with one hundred percent confidence that they’ve been having feelings like that too.” Now her grin, which had been light and airy and breezy, softened into something more solemn but nevertheless gentle. “Thirdly, I think it depends on the circumstances. I think the stuff currently happening to these people in Hypothetical Land is…crazy, and scary, and until they figure out what to do about it, I think it might be best to just…put a pin in everything else.”

That hurt to say. She wanted so badly to do anything but - in fact, the temptation to lean across the center console and kiss him made her ache, but she couldn’t, and she wouldn’t, until the dust from Caleb’s chaos had settled and he’d been apprehended. “Because ‘that person’ you’re talking about is still dealing with all of this crazy shit and trying to process it and, when the time comes for ‘that person’ to let your ‘friend’ know how they feel, I think they wanna do it right. Properly. Y’know?” 

Kurt listened, and nodded. His expression was inscrutable, but then the mask of indescribable emotion broke and he smiled at her again. “I am thinking that is what my friend wants, too.” 

“Good,” Jenna said, releasing a hefty breath she hadn’t been realizing she’d been holding. “I’m glad your friend and I are in agreement.” She was buzzing now, as if she’d wedged her finger in an electrical socket, but the energy coursing through her was all pleasant and sent her reeling. If she dissected that complicating hypothetical conversation, she was pretty certain they’d just come clean and told each other they liked each other and that was an enormous thing to process and just thinking it made her grin like an idiot and made her heart do a series of complicated gymnastic flips and tumbles in her chest. 

Kurt smiled, then looked at their hands, and it dimmed, and that worried her - and crumpled her brow. “What’re you thinking?” She blurted before she could stop herself. 

“I was thinking,” He said, then ran his thumb over the ridges of her knuckles and made her shiver. “That I like this.”

“Yeah?” Jenna grinned enormously at him, feeling her heart melt in her chest. “Me too.”

* * *

 “Hey, I know we kinda finished this particular conversation in the car, but I have a question for you that I just gotta ask.” Jenna couldn’t hold it back any longer. They were strolling through the painfully, brightly-lit-by-buzzing-fluorescents aisles of the market, which felt eerily like something out of an apocalypse movie, given the minuscule number of people shuffling about and looking like the epitome of exhaustion, as if they were fried out of their minds. They were ducking through and swiping what they needed, and they had quite a good pile of boxed goods growing in the basket Kurt held.

Kurt glanced over at Jenna. “Yes?”

“Okay, hear me out. You - er, rather, your friend, sorry - he’s, y’know. Tall, quiet, mysterious.” She waggled her eyebrows at him and he snorted light laughter. “Sharp as a tack and handsome as hell, especially with that irresistible hair and those wild ‘burns of his. Great with computers.” 

Color was beginning to rush into his face and he kept his gaze fixed forward.

Jenna grinned at that, but continued with her question. “Anyways, you get my point. Your friend - is all that. So what I’m wondering, is why does your friend have feelings for…the particular person you mentioned if they’re….none of those things? They’re short. Loud. Obnoxious. Pretty much a mess on most days - kind of okay on others. Hair is not as impressively coiffed.” 

Kurt shook his head. “I don’t think we are talking about the same particular person.”

Jenna’s eyebrows raised. They were standing in front of the dairy section now to grab the last thing they needed, but she leaned against the door and looked up at him. “We’re not?”

“No.” Kurt turned to her. “Person you say is ‘short’ and ‘loud’ and ‘obnoxious’ is bright. Spirited. Enthusiastic. They are funny, and sweet, and kind, and - yes, a lot, but in best way.”

Jenna opened her mouth - and nothing came out. Now she was the one feeling the warmth overwhelm her, burning from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. “I - that’s - okay, I guess I can accept that,” She said teasingly, though she was feeling tingly from head to toes and she hoped her gaze conveyed that.

Kurt smiled and popped open one of the doors and let the chilly draft cool his own blazing face. He reached for one of the milk cartons on the top shelf, as per Jenna’s still-blustered request (she was trying to wrap her head around what he’d said and finding it immensely difficult because every time she replayed his words she found herself grinning like an absolute idiot and losing herself in a bundle of indescribable, inarticulate emotions). 

“That should be good,” Jenna said once she’d recovered enough to speak steadily. “But lemme see the back. Just in case.” She reached for it - and he pulled it away. She stared at him, brows steadily raising. “Oh,” She said knowingly. “That’s how you’re gonna play this, huh? Holding the milk hostage with your - your giraffe arms?”

“Nice try, but not insult,” Kurt said cheerfully, and grinned crookedly at her. “You said it yourself. You like giraffes.”

Jenna feigned what was hopefully a deep, stormy scowl but was, in fact, nothing more than a gross, shallow mimicry of one. “Damn it. You’re right. Can’t argue with that.” She thought for a minute and roughly calculated the distance between herself and the milk and sighed dramatically. “Alright, let’s not beat around the bush. We both know there’s no way I’m gonna be getting that milk. So, what do you want to barter?”

Kurt thought for a minute and put a finger to his lips. The basket banged against his chest as he did so but he ignored it. “Hmm. Many options, little time. How about…free cup of this hot chocolate you’re going to make?”

“Damn it, didn’t think you were gonna catch on,” Jenna said lightly, though the basket was filled with cocoa powder and vanilla extract and peppermint sticks and a can of whipped cream. She pretended to consider for a moment, then nodded begrudgingly. “I guess I could do that. You drive a hard bargain, but it’s a deal.” 

Kurt nodded, passed her the milk, she looked at it with the most cursory of glances before setting it into the basket, then thrust her hand out to cement their ‘deal.’ He smiled and shook it. 

Then their hands fell, still tangled together, and Jenna interlaced her fingers through his, and he squeezed, and they grinned at each other - he down, she up - and headed off towards the front of the store, hand-in-hand, ‘Kurt’s friend’ and the ‘particular person’ enjoying themselves - and each other - immensely.


	10. Chapter 10

Jenna and Kurt returned to a house drowning in darkness and silence. Hank, Janet, and Hope were still holed up somewhere upstairs, presumably nabbing a few more precious hours of sleep, Scott and Luis were slumbering away in their respective guest rooms, and, at some point, Dave had moved into the living room and was sprawled out on a couch. The only sounds were the steady tick-tick-ticks of an unseen clock and the grating rumbles drifting from Luis’s room. 

They slipped through the house enshrouded in thick, cloying blackness quietly, their feet whispering over carpet and thudding gently against the wooden flooring it melded into. The grocery bags Kurt held rustled and soughed. 

Jenna squinted towards an open archway towards the end of the hallway and, when they arrived, poked her head into it and even though she could see nothing but vague shapes looming in the darkness she surmised that it had to be the kitchen. She slipped inside, and groped along the wall for a switch, found it, flicked it, and screwed her eyes up, expecting a sharp fluorescent glow to pierce through them and the dimness they’d adjusted to.

Instead, a series of overhead lights flickered on - pendant lights cast a gentle, buttery beam over a large, rectangular island planted in the middle of the room and reached in all directions. The overall effect was cozy, and warm, and gentle, and showcased the features of the room without being too abrasive about it. Jenna stood there in the archway and gawped because the kitchen was stunningly gorgeous, decorated in rich rosewood shades with cream-colored cabinets and marbled black-and-gray countertops. The refrigerator to her right was tall, and immense, and armed with a subtle LED display that was put in ‘sleep mode’ but still read off the temp, the time, and the date, but in a more subdued hue. The oven, set against the wall and in the row of counters, was an electric, and the same sharp metallic gray as the fridge. In the corner of the room, where the counters aligned against the wall made an abrupt turn, stood a microwave. She would’ve thought this was only a model room, to be displayed and not used, had it not been for the corkboard with various papers (recipes, she assumed) and pictures thumbtacked to it, and the vase of flowers in the middle of the island with a personalized note attached to the little ribbon tied around the curve of the glass, and the pile of books resting in a stacked but misaligned pile on the end counter. Otherwise, the place was absolutely immaculate. 

“Holy shit.” Jenna’s awed, breathless gasp punctured the silence and rippled the image of sophistication the room emanated in waves. 

Kurt whistled appreciatively from where he stood behind her. “Fancy.”

She tentatively stepped over the threshold, and that broke whatever spell the indeed fancy kitchen had bestowed upon them, for Kurt slipped in after her and they spent a few minutes roaming around. She made a beeline for the stove to admire it, and he went to set the plastic bags onto the island, hands exploring the barstools in front of it before moving to glide over the smooth surface of the countertop. 

Jenna was no chef or even a cook by any means, but she knew that this machinery was the envy of both professional and amateur _cuisiniers_ everywhere. She squatted to peer into the glass that offered a view of the oven’s innards, and saw her duplicate peering back. She grimaced, and her reflection mirrored her, but wasted no more time amusing herself by making faces because that was arguably the most childish thing she could’ve done in this kitchen that reeked of splendor and resplendence. She popped back to her feet, and twisted a dial experimentally, watching blue flames flicker to life with no more than a whisper. She turned the dial off and the flames died. 

She turned to look at Kurt, who’d settled himself on one of the tall stools and was rummaging through the bags, plucking things out and placing them on the island one by one. He looked up, one hand plunged in a bag, and met her gaze steadily. “You think it’d be okay if I monopolized their kitchen for a minute? I would ask permission but…I really doubt Dr. Pym would take too kindly to me barging into his bedroom and waking him up,” Jenna said, accompanying the question with a grin.

Kurt chuckled light, easy, quiet laughter. “So long as you don’t burn house down,” He offered. “I think you will be fine.”

“Ooh, don’t even jinx me like that,” Jenna returned, moving to the island to grab a couple of boxes, the small carton of milk they’d playfully tussled over earlier, and a water bottle, and setting those on the counter next to the stovetop. “I don’t think I could afford to pay the cost of this place even if I sold my soul.”

“Don’t destroy the house, and you won’t have to.” A new voice piped up, and successfully startled Jenna’s heart into doing a plethora of gymnastic flips and twists. Hope stood in the archway, leaning against the wall, arms folded over her chest. Her eyes were hard and inscrutable and difficult to read, but a smile flickered across her lips. 

The smile Jenna shot her was wide and sheepish - guilty. “You have my word. And, uh, I’m sorry about just swooping in here and setting up shop, but do you mind if I use your kitchen - which is gorgeous, by the way - to whip up some stuff?”

Hope shrugged. “Go for it.” Her gaze bounced off of the ingredients at Jenna’s side and back up to her face. “Pots and pans are in the bottom cupboards, cups in the top.”

“Thanks.” Relieved that she’d gotten affirmation to fiddle around in a complete stranger’s home, she turned, knelt, and fished through the cupboards, searching for a decent saucepan and finding a spectacular one. She popped back up, feeling like a jack-in-the-box with how many times she’d been bopping up and down, set the saucepan on the stove, and carefully plucked a wooden spoon from a container of utensils too big to be neatly organized with the cutlery - that’d serve as good a stirrer as anything. 

Behind her, Kurt and Hope exchanged a greeting in the form of a few perfunctory words, but that snippet of conversation took a backseat to whatever the latter wanted to discuss. “I’ve been thinking about this Caleb thing,” She said, without further ado or prompting, and Kurt swiveled in his chair to look at her. Jenna angled herself away from the saucepan she’d sprinkled sugar, cocoa powder, and salt into and drizzled milk and water over that. The heat was on, and so, as the mixture sizzled and bubbled, she stirred. She looked at Hope attentively as she twirled the wooden spoon ‘round and ‘round. 

Hope’s eyes bored into Jenna’s. There was no antagonism there, but a sharp, fiery curiosity, paired with a pinch of suspicion. “How’d you get involved with him in the first place?”

Jenna had the distinct feeling that her answer to this would tip the scale of Hope’s opinion one way or the other, and it was an established fact that she had nothing to do with Caleb’s going-ons and his monstrosity but nevertheless there was that needling guilt, that persistent throb that made her feel as though she’d done something wrong even though she knew she hadn’t. She cleared her throat and turned to Hope, and relayed the story of the disastrous lamp-breaking while helping him move in to her apartment complex. 

Hope only listened, though, and didn’t prod when Jenna took a break to quickly turn off the heat on the stove, add a couple of dollops of vanilla to the mixture bubbling in the pan, and fish for mugs in the upper cabinets. She tugged out three - she’d make more once the others had woken up - and set them on the counter, and tilted the saucepan and divvied the warm, rich cocoa up, enjoying the way the smooth frothy brown liquid burbled into the cups. “I was just with him yesterday - or two days ago, actually - and there was this report on about the murders, and I was upset, and he…” She trailed off and shook her head. Her hands were beginning to shake. “Was completely unperturbed. I don’t know. I just…had no idea. Maybe that was me being stupid, or naive, or whatever, but - in my defense, he’s a damn good actor.” She gripped the counter until her knuckles turned white and her hands ceased their trembling and preoccupied herself with adding the finishing touches to the hot chocolate - a good spritz of whipped cream, topped with only a sprinkle of cinnamon, and a peppermint stick that, as it melted, would give the hot cocoa that additional minty twist. 

She turned to face them again, mugs in hand. “The end,” She finished flippantly and instead of dwelling on Caleb, flashed them a smile. It was a little tight, a little drawn, but broad nevertheless. “Alright. Now, as both a gesture of appreciation for you letting me stay here and an apology, here’s some _chocolat chaud par_ Jenna.” She turned to set two mugs on the island, enjoying the clink of porcelain against granite, and eased one towards Hope. “If you want, of course,” She amended quickly, offering Hope another one of her sheepish grins - that same grin she just couldn’t seem to help but wear around the Van Dynes and Pym. Looking at Kurt was easier, and she nudged a mug his way, and accompanied it with a cheeky wink. “And here’s the payoff from that deal we made earlier.” 

She turned to add the finishing touches to her own cup and missed the flood of color that surged into Kurt’s face and the way his gaze snapped away from Hope’s curiously, amusedly intrigued expression and how he curled both hands around his cup and pulled it up to his face to take a deep swig. 

Jenna indulged in a little more whip cream than was necessary, debated on the cinnamon and ended up skipping it, and swirled the mixture into a froth with her peppermint stick before turning to the island. She saw the look on Hope’s face and the look on Kurt’s and raised a brow, befuddled. “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing.” Hope shook her head, though once more there was that flicker of a smile. It dropped into something more serious, though, and she looked at Jenna, studying her. She slid her fingers through the handle of the mug and pulled it close, took a brief sip, and nodded. “Delicious. Now back to Caleb, if that’s okay.”

“Thank you,” Jenna said, beaming with her praise, but then it dimmed. “Right. What about him?”

Hope absently, impatiently drummed her free hand on the countertop. “I haven’t been able to sleep, been too busy thinking about what we can do about the guy. I know my mom said to wait, but…” She trailed off and shook her head, impatience written in the sharp jerking gesture. “He’s starting to prove himself unreliable, and I don’t think we should be relying solely on his…cycles as a means of determining when to nab him. We need to do it as soon as possible, before he kills again,” She spoke firmly, grimly, eloquently. “And I think keeping you in his good graces is a start.” 

Jenna’s eyebrows shot up. She was leaning over the counter, sipping at her cocoa, enjoying the way the warmth flooded through from her tongue to toes. “Okay,” She spoke cautiously, but not in agreement - more or less as a discourse marker to indicate that she was listening. 

Hope plowed on. “Because we need to know if he’s planning anything especially…heinous.” The use of the word made her grin sardonically but the smirk quickly evaporated. “Which wouldn’t matter if we were to stop him immediately, but…context. Context is important. His file said he was exiled, but is that the truth? Maybe he’s still involved with HYDRA in some capacity and he was sent here for some…particular purpose and all of these people that he’s killing are just unfortunate casualties.” Her voice was curt and brisk but pain flashed in her eyes at the dismissal of all of those lives. 

Jenna nodded, her own face crumpling up in a sympathetic grimace. “Yeah…though I don’t know why HYDRA’d list him as ‘exiled,’ though. From what Kurt showed me, their system’s pretty extensive.”

Kurt, polishing off his cocoa with a dollop of whipped cream on his upper lip, nodded. “Very. I don’t think they were trying to conceal anything or make data too…” He paused, floundered for a word, furrowed his brow - then brightened when he finally found it. “Convoluted. It’s all truth, I think.”

Hope frowned at that. “Okay, so if we take that at face value, and we go with the ‘killing people for sustenance’ angle, then…” Her scowl deepened and she shook her head and plucked her peppermint stick, already beginning to melt into a smeared red-and-white blur, and popped the end in her mouth. “What’s stopping us from taking him down now?”

“But,” Jenna interjected. “He could be planning something ‘heinous’ without being involved in HYDRA. Could be branching out on his own - could’ve been inspired by his time in HYDRA which, the more I say it, the more I hate it coming out of my mouth. The organization.” 

Kurt leaned back in his barstool, frowning into his empty mug, running a long finger around the rim. “Let me get this straight,” He said, and both women looked at him. “Nothing is stopping us from stopping him as soon as possible but diabolical plan that…would not be carried out if we stopped him right away.” 

Silence fell. 

Jenna was the first to break it by chuffing laughter and hanging her head, shaking it, curls of brown hair tickling her face and neck. “Now that you say it, Kurt - it’s ridiculous. Nothing makes sense. I think we could just swoop in as soon as tomorrow and turn him over to SHIELD and let them drag a plan - or not - outta him. And as soon as he’s in their custody, the murders stop, and the city is safe, and voila.”

Hope pinched the bridge of her nose and took a minute to gather her thoughts before speaking again. “I hate this,” She prefaced bluntly. “Because it goes against the two things I didn’t want to do: wait, and abide by his routine. But maybe a week would be enough time to ascertain if he’s got anything planned.” She studied Jenna with hawkish eyes. “A week before his next hunt, as per his previous track record - that you can spend pulling info out of him. He trusts you?”

Jenna mulled that over. “I think so, yeah.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know if I can just go sauntering deeper into his life, though, and ask him ‘Oh, hey, by the way, do you happen to have any other evil tricks up your sleeve or is the murdering-people-and-eating-them the extent of it?’” 

Hope rolled her eyes. “I don’t think you could pull that off, either. If this is the route we’re gonna take, you have to be subtle. It sounds like you two were pretty chummy already, so as long as you don’t act different or skittish, or do anything that alerts him to the fact that things are changing or something’s going on, we ought to be okay.” 

Jenna paused with her mug halfway to her lips. She wasn’t exactly known for her subtlety, and in a case of this gravity - wherein she could very well be putting not only her life but others on the line - she was very well aware of that. “I…don’t know if I’m the best choice for this particular gig,” She said honestly. She’d never been very good at masking how she felt, and the pressure involved in doing so in this scenario would only serve to rattle her further.

Hope’s face softened. “But you are. You’re the only one who has an in with the guy. Any other one of us sauntering up to him at random and introducing ourselves would make him suspicious and suspicion tends to trigger people’s ‘flight’ response. The last thing we want is a guy like him vanishing off of our radar.” She spoke firmly, but not toughly - a ribbon of gentleness was interwoven throughout her speech. She set her cup down and planted her hands on the island and looked Jenna dead in the eye. “We don’t really have a choice here, Jenna. You live in the same apartment complex - plus. You’ve got a good, friendly rapport going - major plus. All you have to do is keep up the charade. Try to get closer to him, figure some stuff out, maybe ask him about his background and open up more conversations about him.” 

Jenna thought for a moment, then nodded tentatively. “Alright,” She said warily, because that sounded doable, and yet there was something inside of her, some little voice, that nipped and told her she wouldn’t be able to do it, that something would make her crack and ruin the whole thing, that she was an absolutely terrible actress and Caleb would be able to see right through her and either just completely disappear and wreak murderous havoc elsewhere or put his plan into place immediately, spurred by her clumsy interjection into his business. It wasn’t a cemented plan, granted, but - she felt that it was. 

Hope drained the rest of her hot chocolate and moved to put the mug in the sink, but on the way, she touched Jenna’s shoulder gently, but didn’t say anything - and only looked at her. Gone was that sharp, critical pinch of suspicion, and instead, glinting in her eyes, was a steady sort of faith. One that flabbergasted Jenna who believed she was by no means deserving of it. Hope, seeming to interpret this, squeezed her shoulder, said in a quiet tone of voice, “You can do it because you have to,” then released her, set her mug down, and left, passing through the archway and disappearing without another word.

Jenna only stood there, reeling, because she’d felt Janet in Hope’s touch and had heard Hank in Hope’s words that were oxymoronically both sharp and comforting. She only stood there, mug grasped loosely in hand, brows raised, lips barely parted, too surprised and startled. 

Kurt’s voice yanked her out of her disbelieving stupor. “She’s right, you know.”

Jenna swung her attention to him. “What?”

Kurt, fiddling with the remainder of his peppermint stick, looked at her with an unwavering and somehow quietly determined gaze. “You can do this,” He affirmed, and then suddenly his lips curved in an impish, coquettish grin. “You may not be able to punch him in face like you wanted, but you can take him down. And that might be more satisfying.”

Jenna grinned. It was an easy, instinctive response - not to mention a flattered one. Something about his confidence in her made her cheeks burn. She ignored that, though, and thanked him, instead. “One day I’ll get my punch.” Her mug was still cupped in her hands and she ran her thumbs along the porcelain, finding the gesture soothing, before looking up at him, her amused smile softening. “Thank you. I can tell you now, I absolutely don’t have a career in espionage, but maybe, one day, this’ll be something I can add to my resumé,” She said, and snorted sardonically, and he laughed right along with her. 

And, for just a few moments, everything was alright. Jenna wasn’t dreading the mission that had suddenly been thrust upon her - hell, there was no mission - and it was just them, sitting in the dimly-lit kitchen, laughing over empty mugs of hot chocolate. 

Which, Kurt said once their chuckles had tapered off into silence, he’d enjoyed immensely. It had been a splendid payoff for the deal they’d made earlier, at the grocery store.

Jenna laughed at that. “Well, thank you verily, good sir.” She eyed his face with amusement - a warm, bubbly sort - glittering in her eyes. “I guess you did enjoy it, ‘cause -“ She trailed off and tapped her upper lip with a finger, indicating his whipped cream 'stache that still persisted, her mouth curving into a grin when he first furrowed his brow then realized what she was doing and wiped at his mouth with a hand and color came bubbling up into his face again. 

But Jenna just grinned, and eventually Kurt did, too, and they smiled at each other from across the island and their smiles eventually turned into laughter and, sure, maybe it was the exhaustion that had them chuckling so heartily and attempting to stifle their merriment lest it turn into bellows, but nevertheless they laughed hard enough to bring tears sparking into their eyes, but it didn't matter, because the laughter was welcome, and necessary, and once it tapered off, they looked at each other...and started laughing again.

And it was wonderful. Temporary, they both knew; but undeniably, inexpressibly wonderful, all the same. 


	11. Chapter 11

A few hours, the lightening of the sky from a deep navy blue to a soft baby blue accentuated with rich blazes and streaks of orange and red, and more than a couple of cups of hot cocoa later, the dining room of the Pym household was occupied and resplendent with noise. Forks and knives clattered against porcelain plates as waffles were dissected and devoured with gusto, drinks were slurped down eagerly, and pages rustled as Janet and Hank flipped through the wealth of information Hope had printed out regarding both Caleb and the plan she’d sketched out and developed since hatching it in the kitchen with Jenna and Kurt.

The former took a generous bite of the danish she’d nabbed from the box sitting open in the middle of the table and enjoyed the fruity flavor and sweetness that burst onto her tongue with gusto ("You're right," She murmured to Kurt, voice thick with delight. "These are dangerously good." He responded with a soft chuckle and a knowing smile). She followed it up with a swig of water - she’d made herself an additional cup of hot cocoa after serving everyone else, and was in dire need of it - and looked around the table. 

Conversation was limited to occasional murmurs from Hope to her parents and comments swapped between Hank and Janet. Everyone else was too busy stuffing their mouths; they’d all woken up ravenous. Scott was chasing down each hearty bite of waffle with deep swigs of coffee (he’d scalded his tongue on the hot cocoa earlier but rather than let that deter him, deemed it excuse enough to go ham on other hot beverages), and Luis and Dave’s plates were piled high with waffles drowning in syrup, whipped cream, and thick slices of strawberry. Kurt was polishing off two waffles and a danish twist himself. 

Jenna finished off her pastry, licked her lips, and sat back in her chair, plastering one hand against her contented stomach. She looked up “Thanks for breakfast, Luis.” 

Luis looked up, met her gaze, and beamed. He had a smear of syrup on his chin. “ _El placer es mío,”_ He returned sunnily and she couldn’t help marveling at the fact that he always seemed to be so damn chipper, even this early in the morning and with the little sleep he’d gotten. His affability was infectious, and she found herself returning a bright grin in kind. 

Dave grunted in agreement with a mouthful of grub but once he swallowed shot Luis a wry, cheeky smile. “Yeah. It’s way better than that instant oatmeal crap we have at the office.”

Luis feigned offense and stared pointedly at Dave. “Hey, you only say that ‘cause you’re not used to eating organic, man.” He aimed the tines of his fork in the latter's direction. “‘Scuse me for trying to promote a healthy lifestyle.”

“Not to mention save a few bucks.” 

Luis dropped the charade and once more that sunny, guileless smile danced across his face. “That, too. But, hey, now that we’ve actually got more than a few bucks to spare, you guys are more than welcome to buy whatever breakfast stuff you want, and stop complaining about the damn oatmeal. Or,” He said, once more using his fork to highlight his words, “Here’s an idea: eat at home.” He picked up his napkin, swiped at his face, then crumpled it up, tossed it onto his plate, and shifted back in his seat with a hearty, satisfied sigh. 

“Alright,” Dave agreed. “But when we finally get that cereal bar Kurt and I have been talking about forever installed in our place -“

“That’s not true,” Kurt interjected dryly. “We have never once talked about that.” 

“If you keep bein’ snooty like that, Luis, your certificate for free cereal for life might just be revoked. Think about that.” Dave speared a syrup-drenched piece of waffle and, while shooting Luis a smug, playful sideways glance, popped it into his mouth. 

What followed was a fifteen minute argument about the mythical cereal bar. Luis retorted to Dave’s threat by arguing that he’d just have Scotty sneak into their place, shrink the bar down (that particular quip seemed, to Jenna, a non-sequitur), and bring it to their house, instead, where they could eat cereal around the clock, and then it would be Dave’s certificate for free cereal for life that would be revoked. Kurt interrupted only once, to testify in that deadpan voice of his that none of this was true, and both of their arguments were moot because there was no cereal bar to steal and therefore no certificates for free cereal for life.

Jenna threw her hat in the ring when the debate was on its last legs. “I think,” She said, “A cereal bar would be pretty damn cool.” She looked at Kurt, and he returned a raise of his brows, and she smiled. “Just my two cents.” 

Kurt chuffed light laughter but before any of the guys could tack on or respond, Hope’s firm voice pierced the din of breakfast chatter. “Alright, guys, focus. We’ve got a game plan now.” Her tone was curt, her eyes determined - she was all business. She looked at Scott, and he returned her gaze, and they both nodded - barely perceptible tips of their heads - but then the moment passed and, assuring that she had everyone’s attention, she swung her gaze to her mother.

Janet, her thick cloud of hair pulled back, flipped the sheathe of pages over and let her eyes bounce around the table before affixing onto Jenna. “We’re thinking six days of recon is the most we can afford. It’s already Saturday, and since we can approximate that his last kills were yesterday, I’d wager he’ll be out…hunting again by next Friday. Which leaves you the rest of today, tomorrow, and up until then to stay in his good graces - or get closer, if that’s possible - without drawing any suspicion, and find out if he’s got anything else going on. Maybe he’ll drop hints or clues, but I highly doubt that he’ll be that obvious. Just pay as much attention as you can to anything and everything he does and says that feels off, and let us know. If you don’t find anything out, and if you do but we don’t find any additional details with the info you give us, by Thursday night, then Friday morning, Hope and Scott are going to find him, take him down, and deliver him to SHIELD.”

Jenna listened, thoughts of cereal bars and her pleasant enjoyment stemming from watching the guys banter dissipating. A billion questions buzzed to the forefront of her mind, which helped distract her from the underlying needling worry of being able to pull off such subterfuge. She wasn’t the world’s subtlest person. “Okay. Find out what I can and take note of anything suspicious. Got it. But…” She furrowed her brow and hoped she wasn’t overstepping her boundaries but plowed ahead anyways. “How’re Scott and Hope gonna stop him? Isn’t sending them in to deal with a guy like Caleb risky?”

“As is assuming this man’s going to abide by his feeding schedule,” Hank responded curtly, looking at her with an unwavering gaze. “They can handle this. They’re equipped to.”

The crinkle in her brow deepened, but then she remembered seeing them return home decked out in those fancy suits and armed with their fancy gear, and assumed that had something to do with what Kurt had mentioned earlier, something about there being people like Caleb, only on the opposite end of the spectrum. So she dropped it. “And what should I be on the lookout for, exactly?” She didn’t intend on keeping a play-by-play, minute-by-minute diary of every single thing he did whilst in her company. 

“Anything that might help,” Hope answered. “Anything that deviates from his usual schedule, demeanor, or appearance. Any comment or remark he makes that rings a bell or raises a red flag. Even innocuous stuff like him mentioning a big project at work or him staying out later than he usually does is absolutely worth noting.”

Janet nodded at her daughter, then looked back to Jenna. “The key here is information. We want to see if there’s anything deeper worth digging for, because if there’s the possibility of this being a bust not just of him but of a branch of HYDRA, then that’s crucial.” Her brisk expression relaxed and softened. “But you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. All we’re asking is that you keep up your friendship with him.”

Jenna nodded, relieved that the context interwoven in Janet’s statement assuaged the prickling little worry at the base of her stomach. 

“That’s the most important thing,” Hope added, and Jenna’s gaze swung back over to her. She was beginning to feel like she was watching a tennis match, with the way her eyes were constantly bouncing back and forth, back and forth. “You can’t act like anything’s changed. You can’t act like anything’s different. If you do, he’ll know. Right off of the bat. So do your best to stick to the way you were before you found out about him.”

They were drilling this home - hammering it, as a matter of fact - and Jenna appreciated it. She needed it. Looking at Hank, Janet, and Hope looking at her, with their gazes sharp, filled her with a hard, stony determination. She was going to do her absolute damndest not to let them down - to prove that she was capable. Not even wholly to them, per se - but herself. So she nodded. “Got it.”

“Now, logistics,” Hank said curtly before proceeding to rattle off a long list of instruction. Jenna would be returning to the heart of the city with Dave and Luis, who would be her backup, ready to deal with any instantaneous emergency if need be (though he pronounced ‘deal with’ with skepticism sharpening his voice and quirking his brow, adding yet another layer of hypercriticism to his face, but both Dave and Luis shrugged it off). Scott and Hope would be preparing to accost the guy - whatever that meant - and Kurt would remain at the house, keeping an eye on HYDRA’s database just in case and trying to glean any additional info. He’d also be fielding Jenna’s calls and texts. “At the end of each day, text what you’ve learned to Elvis over there. If you don’t find anything, let him know that, too.” 

Jenna nodded and suppressed the urge to grin, because she certainly had no problem keeping up a constant, steady stream of communication with ‘Elvis,’ who, gauging by his barely suppressed and pleased smile, had taken Hank’s jab as a massive compliment. She battled what would undoubtedly be that ridiculously broad, goofy smile back, though, because the last thing she wanted to do was explain why she was sporting such a grin, and she succeeded (she felt a stab of pride and thought, not without some humor, that that was her first step over the threshold in her ‘acting’ career). She settled for nodding for the umpteenth time and affirming - “Can do.” While she was still feeling occasional strong pulses of doubt about her capability and the fact that there was so much riding on this, something as small as being able to push down a smile brought that determination she’d felt earlier surging back. What was blossoming in her gut was a sort off haphazard, reckless optimism: maybe she really could do this. 

They ran through the plan one final time, cementing it and stitching up any loose ends (of which there weren’t many), and by the time that particular conversation wound down to a close, Hank’s impatience and exhaustion was written explicitly on his face. He rose, grunted at the guys in lieu of an articulated farewell, bid Jenna a curt “good luck” - a sentiment that was echoed by Janet when the younger woman was on her way out of the manor, tailing Luis and Dave into the early morning, but stopping and pausing on the threshold when the brilliant scientist touched her arm.

Jenna looked at Janet, and felt that previous surge of nerdy enthusiasm come rushing back tenfold. It warmed her face and made her offer up yet another sheepish smile as she blustered out: “Thank you. Not just for that, but for letting me stay here, too. And use your kitchen. I know it’s kind of weird for a stranger to just waltz into your home and do all that kind of stuff, so I really appreciate it.”

Janet’s response was a smile that spoke ‘don’t worry about it’ for her. She gave Jenna’s upper arm a gentle, bracing squeeze, then, with that, dropped her hand, turned, and vanished up the stairs, presumably heading after her cantankerous husband.

Jenna stepped over the threshold, reeling - not just from that brief, albeit lovely, encounter, but from the events of the past couple of hours. It was just hitting her how fast everything was happening and how quickly it had all piled up and how abruptly everything had changed. She wasn’t daunted - or, rather, she was less daunted than she’d been when she’d first found out about Caleb and when Hope’s idea had first been posed - but, still, it was a lot to take in and absorb. Not to mention nerve-wracking. Maybe she was feeling all of this nervousness because of her lack of sleep, which understandably would make her more vulnerable than usual to nerves, but -

“Jenna?”

A voice interrupted her rambling internal monologue and she paused on the first step that led down to the beach. She turned to see Kurt standing on the porch. They’d swapped glances at the breakfast table while everyone else had been saying goodbye - though their nonverbal communication had said a hell of a lot more than that. Her lips twitched in memory. She was glad to see him, though; now they could vocalize their farewells. 

Her mouth broke into a sunny smile. The height discrepancy was made even more obvious - and jarring - by her lowered position on the stairs. Meeting his eyes required her tipping her head back just a touch, but she didn’t mind, not one bit. “What’s up, Elvis?”

That tentative little smile that had threatened to flash across his face when Hank first slapped the nickname on him reappeared, but this time was unencumbered by his need to suppress it, and Jenna felt her heart shift when he turned that smile on her. He ducked his head and looked at his feet with his hands tucked in his pockets, and he was the perfect picture of quiet glee and delight. Seeing him standing there like that - hell, seeing that smile - made Jenna’s grow bigger. She couldn’t help it - she was much too endeared. That, and his delight was infectious. 

He looked up at her and his smile waned - a shadow flickered over his face. His gaze carefully searched hers. “Be safe.”

Jenna’s smile didn’t flicker, and instead broadened into a cheeky smirk. “No problem there. I’m always careful.”

Kurt gave her a dry look, complete with raised brows, and she laughed at his skepticism that pierced right through her blatant lie. “Okay, okay, maybe not, but I will be.” She traced an ‘x’ over her heart with an index finger, and her smile flattened out into something less ridiculous, and sweeter. “Promise.” A thought fluttered into her head, and she seized it before it could dissolve or before she lost her nerve (which was something she didn’t do often but it did happen, on occasion). “Besides, I have to come back. I put a pin in something earlier, and I’m really looking forward to taking it out.” 

Confusion clouded his face, and for a second she worried he’d respond to her reference with no more than a confused crumple of his brow, but then it cleared, and his smile reappeared - accompanied by a light smattering of red in his cheeks. Seeing that look of recognition, paired with that cheesy grin, paired with the fact that, despite a couple of hours of sleep and late night adventures and a bunch of nonsense in-between, his hair was still perfectly, immaculately coifed, gave those second thoughts Jenna’d been having about the pin thing a reprisal. It had seemed to be the smart idea at the time, and she knew it still was, but the reasons why were all jumbled and scrambled up in her head. Nothing would be easier than closing the distance between them - her climbing that last step, him meeting her at the base of the stairs - and - and - the train of thought derailed abruptly because she had an epiphany that blew it off of the tracks. They were standing in a similar little bubble of energy reminiscent of that of the night they’d spent at her workplace, and the trip to the diner that had followed - that electric moment on the pavement wherein they’d been within seconds of kissing. Now she could recognize that the feeling that had zipped through her then as the kind that had people tumbling into bed together - pure, unadulterated attraction - and while there was no doubt that that same feeling persisted, this time, it was different. Layered. Seeing him now with their hours of conversation and touch and camaraderie under her belt made her realize that, and it also reinforced the notion that waiting would be a good idea. Giving into it (‘it’ being her volatile bundle of emotions) now, then leaving for a week, not to mention doing so to perform a potentially dangerous task, would serve to do nothing. 

Kurt spoke, and the sound of his quiet, accented voice dragged her out of her reverie. “I’d like that.” 

“Good, ‘cause I would, too.” With that, and another flash of a goofy, broad grin, she eased down another step, then another, and another - and then stepped onto soft sand. “Good luck with your digital hunting. See you in a week.”

“Bye,” Kurt said, feeling lame and lackluster but unable to articulate anything he wanted to say. All because of that damned, albeit rational, pin. 

With one last smile and a brief salute, Jenna turned on her heel and plodded through the sand towards Dave and Luis, who stood on the edge of the forest, tugging their jackets close and shifting from foot to foot, but their faces brightened when she approached because that meant they could trek back on that snaking trail and head to the van, where there’d be heat and warmth and coziness. 

They all hooted one last parting to Kurt, still standing on the porch - then turned and plunged into the dense forest, promptly vanishing within all of the bushy greenery and flora. 

Kurt stood there for a few beats more, looking after the shivering shrubs indicative of where they’d stormed through, then headed back inside, closing the door behind him with a gentle, and yet somehow resolute, click. 


	12. Chapter 12

The ochre van with the X-Con logo stamped on its flanks emitted a loud rattle for the first five or six miles of the journey back to the heart of the city, hiccuped and burped on the seventh, then smoothened out into a sleek, rumbling purr thereafter. None of these sounds perturbed Luis, who drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the center console and occasionally reaching forward to give the dashboard an encouraging pat. 

Dave, sprawled out in the back with an X-Con duffel bag tucked between his head and his elbow, emanated a long series of snores that accompanied the rumbles and grumbles of the van. Jenna, sitting in the passenger seat, took note of the gentle, delicate way Luis navigated the curves and bends in the road so as to not jar the snoozing Dave awake, and smiled because the care he took in rounding each turn was touching. He looked over, saw her smiling, and flashed her a sunny beam of his own. 

“I like it,” Jenna said, puncturing the dense silence that had been mounting for a good ten minutes (excluding Dave’s and the van’s inarticulate contributions). She spoke too loudly and winced at the abrasive volume of her voice, and shot a quick peek over her shoulder. Dave’s snores faltered - then resumed a few seconds later. She relaxed back into her seat with a sigh, relieved to not have woken him.

Luis, still looking out over the road unspooling before them, raised an eyebrow. “Like what?” 

“The van.” Jenna ran her hand over the smooth wood of the door panel. “It’s got…character.” To say the least. “Where’d you get it?” 

“Oh!” His expression of polite befuddlement dissolved, replaced by an enthusiastic, eagerglow that lit up his eyes. “It’s kind of a family heirloom, y’know? First belonged to my _abuelito_ , who, like, apparently got it for a steal from some kinda automotive shop goin’ out of business - he really knew how to talk people down or up or into whatever. _Abuelita_ says he was quite the charmer - and I guess that’s where I get it from.” He angled his head in Jenna’s direction and waggled his brows and she laughed. “But then he got sick and died, y’know, so the van went to my dad, who was initially like ‘Oh man no I don’t want that _pedazo de chatarra’_ but it grew on him and we’d always work on it together after school, ‘cause he’d rope me into it by saying, like, ‘ _Hijo,_ this is gonna be your car someday, and you’re gonna want it in tip-top shape.’ I never minded, though - it was always super fun, just hangin’ out in the garage with him, blasting music that would make my ma come outta the house and chastise us and tell us that we were gonna blow out our eardrums so we’d turn it down….then crank it right back up when she went inside and I think eventually she just threw her hands up and gave up trying.” He thumbed the steering wheel fondly. “First car I ever learned to drive, once it was up and running. And when I got my license -“ He continued to stare out at the road unspooling before him but his eyes were unseeing and glazed over with fond recollection. “Me and my cousins, Ignacio and Ernesto and Miguel and whoever else could fit, would always just hop in and cruise around ‘cause we liked the freedom and we liked messin’ around, right? We’d stop at a corner store first and load up on Slurpees and snacks and shit like that and then just hit the town. We’d always stay out too late, especially on nights before, like, huge shindigs and birthday parties and stuff where the whole family would get together, and every time we got back home at two or three in the morning, our _abuelita_ would be waiting in the living room and as soon as we walked through the door just really tear into us and be like, ‘ _No vengas llorando cuando estás de mal humor. Y no esperes salir temprano ya sea.’”_ He paused, then translated - ‘Don’t come crying to me when you’re cranky, and don’t expect to leave early, either’ - and followed it up with a laugh. “She’d make us stay at those parties the whole time and keep an eye out for any kind of attitude. But we were teenagers, and you know how teenagers are. I was good about it, though, ‘cause you reap what you sow and all of that, but my cousins would be just absolutely miserable.” Another chuff of fond laughter punctuated his endless stream of words. “And of course, we’d be right back out in the van, tearing off down the street, like, the next night or so, even though we knew better. ‘Cause we just liked hanging out in the _urgoneta del partido_ too much, you know? And eventually it _did_ become mine, after my mom died and my dad got deported and my grandma refused to take it for whatever reason but she’d always kinda hated it even when it belonged to my grandpa so there’s that. I thought I’d be super stoked when the day came that the van’d be mine, y’know, and I am, I love this thing to pieces, but I just wish the price to pay hadn’t been so high, y’know?” Even as he said that, wrapping up his spiel with that little sorrowful tidbit, the light in his eyes didn't go out and instead his smile just turned into something a touch sadder. 

Jenna could think of nothing to say and only stared at Luis, simultaneously stunned and enthralled, momentarily taken aback by the tangled tale he’d just woven, the solid wall of speech he’d just delivered. She’d always believed herself to be a chatterbox, with her loose tongue and tendency to wedge both feet directly and promptly into her mouth on many an occasion, but she was clearly no match for Luis. “I’m sorry to hear about your mom and dad,” She said finally once she could find the words, voice soft. “But everything else doesn’t sound too bad. Running around wreaking havoc in a Party Van?” It felt appropriate to enunciate it like a title. “Downing Slurpees and snacks as you go? That sounds like a pretty damn good time.”

The flicker of melancholy on his face vanished, replaced once more by bright optimism. He laughed. “It was. We’d always go around to flea markets or public exhibitions with all different kinds of vendors selling all different kinds of stuff, too - ooh, and farmer’s markets. Those were great, too, ‘cause, y’know, organic produce and organic products and all of that. No matter where we went, though, we’d always come home with the back -“ He jerked his head towards the spacious gap that Dave had claimed as his temporary sleeping space. “Loaded with junk.”

Jenna brightened, delighted to find someone who had a penchant for the same stuff she did. “Yes!” She spoke a little too enthusiastically. “Open-air markets are fantastic. I mean, they’re a good way to spend a lot of money, for sure, but it’s definitely worth it for all of the cool stuff they have.” She paused briefly, then tacked on as an afterthought: “Garage sales are cool, too.” Her mind yearned to stray in the direction of memory, because suddenly she didn’t feel as if she was sitting in the passenger seat of Luis’s van but, rather, was strolling through the streets of Old Town San Diego, hand-in-hand with her grandmother, passing by and through a colorful plethora of vendors with a smorgasbord of goods to sell. 

Luis’s response shattered her memory and brought her back to the present. “Thank you!” He spoke with the verve and relief of someone who’d finally found another person who supported their side of a cause or argument. “The guys are always telling me those places are a waste of time, but - a) no matter how much you spend, anything you get there will always be cheaper than the shit in those retail and big brand name places, and b) you can find a bunch of crap there that you’ll never find at those other corporations.” He counted off each point with a tick of his fingers. 

Clearly this had been a point of contention between him and the guys before, and thinking of the argument that had blossomed from _that_ made Jenna grin (she’d been doing a lot of that lately, in spite of the circumstances, and though her cheeks ached, she liked it). “Exactly,” She reaffirmed and nodded solemnly as if they weren’t discussing the validity of independent markets and instead swapping state secrets. “I like going to thrift shops and antique stores, too. It’s pricier, for sure, but for good reason. And it’s kind of cool just checking out all of the old stuff, too; that’s definitely worth the trip, if not the money.”

Luis laughed and nodded. “For sure. Kurt’s usually the only one I can ever drag with me to places like that ‘cause he’s pretty much an _ejemplo_ of that late ‘70s and early ‘80s culture. The perfect poster child for it, actually.” He snorted.

Jernna’s smile warmed. Luis was right. That pompadour he sported, those polyester shirts he wore undone down to the third button, the layers upon layers he donned, the necklaces that adorned his neck and the rings that glittered on his fingers - Kurt really did exemplify that ‘just stepped out of the neon pages of a disco-era’ catalogue style. In her humble opinion which, admittedly, was just a smidge biased, he pulled it off well - and it was endearing. She’d seen _Saturday Night Fever_ once upon a time and knew the kind of aesthetic he was going for. “Yeah,” was all she said, and her tone was layered with that same warmth present in her smile - which Luis picked up, but didn’t remark, on. Instead, he just kept his eyes on the road, and smiled. 

They fell into silence, which felt foreign and weird after however long they’d just spent jabbering, but this second bout of quiet didn’t last long, for Dave’s voice suddenly boomed in the space between them and made them jolt in their seats. “You know what’s also cool about Kurt?” He spoke in a thick, bleary voice. “He knows how to keep his mouth shut.” 

“Sorry,” Jenna and Luis chimed in unison then swapped looks like a couple of kids having just gotten busted for doing something bad. They exchanged sheepish smiles. 

Dave, sitting on his knees, both elbows propped on the shoulders of Jenna and Luis’s seats, scrubbed at his face with a hand. “Nah,” He sighed resignedly. “Probably won’t get any kind of decent sleep until I get home.” 

“Sounded like you were,” Luis returned. “You were sawin’ up a storm there, man.” 

“What? No, I wasn’t.”

“Are you kidding me? We lived together for, like, a year. I’m pretty sure your snoring’s clinical, man. And how would you know, anyways? You were sleeping.” 

Jenna listened to them squabble and grinned, and occasionally supplied a laugh or remark of her own, and the van was lively with discussion and laughter as they drove into the city, which was just beginning to stir. The sun was steadily climbing towards its usual perch in the sky, casting a soft, gentle yellow shadow over the people trotting or ambling on the sidewalks, either clutching briefcases or cups of coffee. They passed through the tight, narrow streets, past the shops with the ‘closed’ signs being flipped deftly to ‘open,’ and, already, the roads were beginning to become clogged with traffic. Dave and Luis quit their bickering and instead struck up a deal - Dave would crash at Luis and Scott’s place for the foreseeable future - and during a lull in their conversation, Jenna rattled her address off to Luis. Five minutes later, he eased out of the traffic, sidled up to the curb of her complex, and idled there. He was parked illegally and he knew it, so he - and Dave - kept sharp, alert eyes out for anyone who could and would apprehend them. 

“Thanks, guys,” Jenna said, popping open the door. Before she slid out, she looked back at them both, because she wasn’t referring to just the ride. Spending that time with them had been therapeutic - had let her turn her mind not to the pressing matters knotting her stomach but whatever inane thing they’d been bickering about, and enjoying their company in general. She shot Luis a warm smile, and followed it up with one aimed in Dave’s direction - 

“Waitta minute.” Dave slipped into the front of the van - not without bumping and jostling Luis - and plopped down in the passenger seat. “How’re we supposed to be your backup if you can’t get in touch with us?” His eyes glinted with brief good humor.

Jenna laughed and nodded. It was a good question that prompted her into quickly logging their numbers into her phone. Only after that did she bid them farewell. She nudged the van door shut, stepped back onto the sidewalk, and watched them ease out of the illegal curb spot and peel back into the stream of traffic. She lifted her hand to tip them a wave, and felt herself grinning again. 

She didn’t think about the fact that this was, technically, the official ‘start’ of her ‘mission,’ as it were, and instead felt herself brimming over with warmth because they were good guys, and the ride home had been fun, and she’d genuinely enjoyed their company - and, all in all, despite her sleep schedule being riddled with holes and her previous couple of emotional outbursts that had left her feeling spent and husked out, her day…really wasn’t off to a bad start. 

With that smile still lingering on her face, she turned to head into her complex, ignorant of the fact that she was still dressed down in a baggy jacket and pajamas and garnering an odd look or two from passersby, and disappeared into the familiar, comfortable darkness of the building.

* * *

 As she mounted the stairs, an unsettling thought danced into her mind and made her frown and suddenly, with a frightening clarity, she knew Caleb would be standing in the hallway that led to her apartment, leaning against the wall next to her door, with his arms folded over his chest and a knowing look glinting in those yellow eyes of his. He wouldn’t even have to take one look at her to know what was going on and instead he’d just smile at her and then he would - what? Kill her? ‘Eat’ her - in whatever grotesque manner? The crudity and bite in which the thought needled at her brain made her grimace, and she took a second on the steps that led to her hallway to breathe and compose herself.  _Relax. You’re just letting your nerves get to you. It’s, what, six, six-thirty in the morning? There’s no way he’s going to be just….standing outside, waiting for you._ She repeated the thought like a mantra as she moved up the stairs again, but there was still that needling little worry, and she didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she got to the top of the stairs and saw that the hallway - and the space surrounding her apartment door - was empty.

With the long exhale of relief came a grin of equal flavor. She quickly moved to her door, unlocked it, stepped inside, closed it behind her, locked it after a moment of contemplation, then leaned against it, ran both hands through hair that was tangled and messy and disheveled, and - then proceeded to laugh at herself because she was a mess. She shoved off the wall, shook her head, scoffed at her own ridiculousness, then moved into her bedroom, kicking off her flip-flops and shrugging off her jacket and tossing it onto her couch as she passed through her living room. She’d get another few hours of sleep, then start the day by shooting a text to Caleb and inviting him to breakfast.

Yeah, she decided as she collapsed onto her bed and cozied up under one of her blankets and nuzzled into her pillows, already beginning to lose her grip on her consciousness. That’s what she’d do. That was a good first step, and the sooner this whole ordeal was over, the better, especially because it meant Caleb would be taken care of and she and Kurt could finally -

Her thoughts dissolved as she slipped away into sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**Day One: Saturday**

_Wow, I really didn't think this through,_  was the first thought that fluttered through Jenna's mind as she sat in the booth of the diner Caleb had agreed, with some gusto, to meet her at. It was a minute detail that had lodged that skeptical, doubtful thought into her head - she'd already eaten, and there was the very real possibility, no matter how small the chance of it coming to fruition was, that he'd notice her doing something uncharacteristic, like ordering something small or picking at her meal. She frowned at her glass of water and fiddled with her straw, using it to stir and prod and rattle the ice cubes in it around with a series of tinkling little clinks as they bumped against each other and against the curved glass. It was just a little thing, the tiniest of details, and usually stuff like that didn't needle at her, but this was a really bad time to be herself and let those details slip right on by.  _Alright_ , she told herself firmly.  _One strike. That's it. That's all you get._  She knew she was being ridiculous - most of her introspection revolved around her awareness of her rash recklessness - because, for one, who was to say whether or not he'd even bother paying attention to what she ate and how she ate it and, for another, affording herself 'strikes' for the whole situation was just inane. Nevertheless, the thought made her feel better, and allowed her to gather herself and steel her nerves, so by the time Caleb came sauntering into the diner, dressed down in jeans and an open jacket over a plain white t-shirt, she was able to lean back against the vinyl backing of the booth, lift a hand to capture his attention, meet his gaze, and don a big, friendly grin - all while she thought ' _fucking asshole_ ' with a venomous vehemence. 

"Look at you," Caleb said amusedly as he approached the table. "All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed." He glanced at his watch. "This early in the morning, too. Who are you and what did you do with Jenna?"

Jenna laughed, though the urge to bristle at his lazy condescension knotted her stomach. "I don't even know." She gestured for him to take a seat. He obliged and as he sat, a waiter came bustling up to their table. He took Caleb's drink order, and looked expectantly at Jenna, who waved him on because she hadn't even glanced at the menu yet. He smiled and, with that curt briskness unique to those in the food service industry, vanished. 

Caleb unfolded his silverware from its napkin and toyed with his fork, twirling it in his broad, thick fingers. "So," He said, striking up casual conversation. His eyes, that unnerving translucent shade of brown that bordered on yellow, bored into hers and his lips quirked into a smile. "How was that 'thing' you had the other day?"

Jenna frowned, puzzled, but then it hit her. He was referring to that little lunch...meeting she'd had with Kurt. "Oh, yeah. That was...fun." She felt weird mentioning that. She didn't want to give him a window into something like that - something that she had enjoyed with someone that she really liked. In that split second, she decided to omit Kurt altogether - there was no way in hell she was going to feed Caleb that kind of information. That, and she had the discomfiting feeling that mentioning him just might paint a target on his back, for whatever reason, and that was the very last thing she wanted. It was a minuscule thought exaggerated into staggering proportions, but the feeling it produced was very real. She waxed some kind of spiel about meeting with a superior to discuss the potential of getting a raise, which was exciting for obvious reasons, and she talked and talked and talked, and delighted in the fact that he didn't even blink an eye when she ordered only a side of bacon and a single scrambled egg. Even better, however, was the fluid way she was talking. She sounded like her normal chattery self, and he seemed to be buying it. 

They ate, and drank their water, and talked. Nothing felt jarring, or out of place, and Jenna felt the tautness in her chest begin to unwind. Her feelings towards Caleb hadn't changed - just looking at him roiled her stomach something fierce - but she was actually pulling it off. She was doing it. 

They spent an hour finishing off their breakfast and talking about nothing. She asked him about him, how he was doing, and what was going on in his world. Her heart pounded in her ears as she did so because she wanted to sound casual but not too casual so as to sound suspicious, and her nerves snapped taut again as she posed the questions. 

Caleb leaned back in his seat, plate empty and decorated with his silverware and a crumpled napkin. He patted his stomach contentedly, and she felt a powerful surge of intense, macabre disgust sweep over her as she wondered if that's what he did when he finished sucking the life out of the people he killed. Then he was talking, and she was momentarily distracted from her horror. He said he was currently out of work, but looking - he was one of those guys who bounced endlessly from job to job - and, otherwise, life was uneventful. 

' _Uneventful', my ass,_  Jenna thought dourly while she outwardly nodded and grinned, but then he said something that was mentioned incredibly casually, so much so that she nearly missed it. As he was talking about the nothing going on in his life, he'd mentioned passing by some property that he was considering taking a look at on his way to the pizza place she had recommended some time ago, which had proven to be delicious, and -

"Wait a sec," Jenna blurted, severing his sentence. "Property? You're not thinking of moving away, are you? 'Cause, if you are, you're gonna break my heart." As if she gave a shit if he moved, given that he'd be promptly moving into a cell sooner rather than later. The thought was a sharp needle and Jenna knew it was warranted, and the meanness tasted simultaneously metallic and slimy and was also incredibly gratifying. She was, after all, sitting here and chowing down with a murderer. 

Caleb rumbled laughter at that and shook his broad head. His curls quivered with the movement. "No. I'm just tired of constantly submitting résumés and getting that 'Thank you so much for applying, but we don't have any positions available to suit your qualifications' bullshit." He spoke in a falsely sugary tone of mimicry, and the voice made Jenna work to suppress a shiver. "So I think, and you can't tell anyone this," He leaned forward, voice shifting into a lower, conspiratorial pitch, and he gestured for Jenna to do the same. She did so, reluctantly. "But I'm going to open my own restaurant."

Jenna stiffened. The idea of this particular man, an ex-HYDRA agent with a penchant for murder and countless deaths under his belt, opening a restaurant for whatever reason (her first thought was _trap_ ) unnerved her, and the unease pierced her right down to the bone, and it wasn't until she realized Caleb was looking at her expectantly and had said "Hello? Earth to Jenna" before she snapped out of her fog. "Yeah, sorry for blanking. I was just having a hard time trying to reimagine the guy who has every single local fast food chain on speed dial as a restauranteur."

Caleb leaned away and snorted laughter. It was a merry, rich laugh. "Well, get used to it." He spread his hands, and smiled at her. It was a charming, winsome smile. Both the laugh and the smile churned her stomach. "And because we're such close friends, you'll get free service and free food for life. You lucky dog, you."

Jenna's returning smile was weak, because his grin had thrown her completely off-whack. In the past few days, she'd discovered that there was a good off-whack and a bad off-whack, and comparing the way, say, Kurt's smile made her feel versus the way Caleb's smile feel solidified that theory. Kurt's smile made her feel happy and warm and fuzzy and bubbly in a giddy sort of way, whereas Caleb's made her want to retch. Or punch him in the face. Or do one, then follow it up with the other. "Yeah," She said when the silence spun out a touch too long and he raised his eyebrows at her. "Lucky me."

* * *

The day went by in an extremely unpleasant blur, so by the time evening rolled around, Jenna was ecstatic to be home. She entered her apartment, closed the door behind her, and released an enormous, hefty sigh. She and Caleb had lingered at the diner for a few minutes more, then spent a good couple of hours meandering around the city and checking out the shops and traipsing through the parks, as per their usual modus operandi. They'd followed that up with a late lunch, then headed back to their apartment complex, where they had finally split ways. 

She'd been on edge the whole damn day, walking on a tightrope of frayed nerves, and the only viable information she'd snagged was the stuff about property and his current work status. But, hey, it had been her first day on the job, and she thought, minus her occasional lapses of silence, that she had done pretty okay, damn it. With that thought, she moved into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of cider, and curled up on her couch with the glass in one hand and her phone in the other. She alternated between taking swigs and enjoying the crisp, cool way the cider bubbled and fizzed down her throat, and composing a message to send to Kurt. 

**' _Hey, Elvis. Spent a lot of time with the guy today and didn’t get much, but he mentioned something about buying property and opening his own restaurant. Don’t know if he’s gonna use it for some purpose beyond culinary stuff or actually be a business-owner but there’s that. Said he was tired of being booted from job to job. I’ll try to see if I can delve deeper into it.'_**

She felt herself grin at the nickname, but it faded as she tapped away. God, she really couldn't wait for this whole thing to be finished. Done and over with. Caleb would be yanked out of the society he was such a menace to and dealt with however was seen fit. No more death, no more manipulation, no more of that uncomfortably greasy grin that Jenna had initially perceived as impish but now saw through an entirely different lens.

She felt a headache begin to pulse at her temples, and grimaced. She tossed her phone aside, drained her glass, leaned forward to set it on the coffee table, and put her head in her hands, back bowed. She remained this way for a couple of moments. The light 'ding' of her phone pulled her out of her foggy, clouded reverie, and she dropped her hands and looked up and saw a text message notification pop up on her screen. 

Jenna smiled when she saw Kurt's name displayed, and she picked her phone up to read his (prompt) response. 

' _ **Noted. Thank you, Agent J.'**_

Three little bubbles sprung up and she watched them dance with an eager little grin playing at her lips. The wave of her headache began to recede. When the wave of little dots broke and a giraffe emoji sprang up, along with the tagline ' _ **For additional good luck,'**_ her grin broke out into a laugh. 

She leaned back into her couch, phone in hand, feet propped up on the coffee table - with that same enamored, eager little grin curving her lips into a warm, soft parabola and a spark lighting up her eyes as she typed up a response. 

And, for the first time, and for the moment, Caleb was out of sight and out of mind. 

**Day Two: Sunday**

Jenna spent her morning at the gym. She suffered through fifteen minutes of cardio while waiting for her yoga class to start, then spent the next hour partaking in a series of long, slow, steady, luxurious stretches and poses. She finished up with thirty minutes of strength training. With that workout under her belt and a pleasant soreness permeating and tingling through her shoulders and arms and chest and down through the latter half of her bod, she headed home. She'd already decided that she wouldn't reach out to Caleb lest she evoke suspicion in regards to overeagerness, so the day was hers. 

When she arrived home, she dropped everything and peeled off her sweater and sweats, and took a too-long and too-hot shower. She emerged from a bathroom choked with steam, threw on her bathrobe, went to the kitchen to pop a frozen meal into the microwave, and snagged a can of diet soda from the fridge. She leaned against the counter and sipped at her drink and waited for her lunch to finish cooking, feeling refreshed and relaxed (already having made the internal deal to not waste a single needless, unnecessary thought on Caleb). When the microwave dinged, she took the meal out and ate it in the living room, sitting on her couch and watching a sitcom she'd seen hundreds of times but never got tired of (it was a familiar comfort). She kept her phone close at hand, just in case. 

Which proved to be a good decision. Halfway through her meal, Caleb sent her a text, inviting her to a movie tomorrow after work. Jenna swore and made a face at that because she'd gotten so caught up in this whole thing that she'd forgotten about her job (surely not a good sign) but agreed nevertheless, especially because the routine and schedule of work sawed off a good, considerable chunk of her subterfuge time. She'd figure it out, though. She shot back a ' _ **Sure, you pick the time, I'll pick the snacks'**_ and closed out of their conversation. Despite the sudden crimp work had put in her schedule, she was beginning to feel better about her whole undercover gig and the improvisation that came with it. 

Jenna leaned back into her couch, practically melting into the cushions, polished off her food, sipped at her soda, and smiled and laughed at the nonsensical shenanigans occurring on TV. 

**Day Three: Monday**

Jenna went to work and did her best to concentrate and lose herself in her most recent editing project, which was proving to be a monster for a multitude of reasons (least of all difficult footage and faulty audio). She sat in the bay, headphones on, index finger pushed against her pursed lips, her other hand drumming against the keyboard of her fancy computer. She stared at the intricate display of the editing program with heavy eyelids and unseeing eyes that were glazed over - with weariness, for one, seeing as how she'd stayed up way too late the night prior texting Kurt, but also from staring unblinkingly at her computer screen, for another. 

She broke her own trance and leaned back in her chair and scrubbed at her face, feeling the beginnings of yet another headache tapping at her forehead. She looked around at the sea of people hunched over their computers, fingers typing and clicking, and suddenly shoved up from her seat. She needed a break to clear her head, so she left the editing bay, weaseled through the hustle and bustle of the main hub and exchanged a few words with people she passed, and stepped outside into a light mist of rain. She squinted up into the sky, looking at the dense knot of thick gray clouds sprawled overhead, and smiled. 

Jenna stood there for a few moments, the sprinkling of rain cooling her skin, and the earthy scent of it soothing her. She fished her phone out of her pocket - it'd be relatively safe, given that the rain was nowhere near intense enough to do any sort of damage to it - and, on a whim, called Kurt. 

He answered on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Hey," Jenna greeted as she ambled down the front steps, feeling her lips twitch into that grin that was always inevitable - the giddy kind of smile that accompanied a flurry of wild butterflies in one's stomach. "How's it going?" She moved out of the stream of foot traffic and watched people continue to pop in and out of the main hub. She spotted an empty golf cart used to trundle and zip people around, and pulled herself up and into it and parked herself in the driver's seat. 

"Not bad," Kurt was saying. "Nobody has kicked me out of HYDRA system yet. But I think Scott and I staying here as long as we have is testing Hank's patience." He chuckled. 

Jenna grinned. "I bet. You guys are probably a real handful. Especially you. I know you're a real chatterbox."

Kurt laughed at that, then asked her how she was doing. She was careful to keep her voice down to a murmur as she told him about breakfast the other day, providing details she hadn't included in the text, and informed him about her and Caleb's plan to see a movie. "Truth be told, I don't think I've really got anything valuable yet," She mumbled as she watched people stream back and forth from the main hub and down to the lots and soundstages. "But that whole property thing is a lead, I guess, and I think I'm gonna try to follow that one."

"Wonder if Sherlock Holmes or James Bond ever said 'I  _guess_ I am going to try to follow this lead." She could hear the smile in his voice.

"Can it, Goreshter," Jenna returned, feeling her own grin grow. "Keep up with the smack talk and when I'm a world-class detective, and you come to me 'cause you need something investigated, I just might refuse to take you on as a client." 

"I am sorry," He said solemnly, and then they both laughed, and for a moment afterwards, there was a beat of silence. It wasn't uncomfortable. Jenna leaned against the golf cart seat, noting how comfortable it was just to know that there was someone on the other end - and not just any someone. She smiled, and struck up the conversation again, and they spent the next couple of minutes talking about nothing. It was nice...but there was only so much time Jenna could milk for a break. 

When Jenna pulled her phone away from her ear to glance at the time, she wrinkled her nose - she had to go back to her little nook and dive back into the work on her computer. "I hate to cut this short," She said once her phone was back in place. "But I kind of snuck away to talk to you, and I should probably get back to work before I lose my job and actually have to open a private investigation detective service." 

"Sounds like good idea," Kurt said, and there was a hint of a teasing lilt in his tone, and she smiled again, but before she could respond, she detected a beat of hesitance on his end. It was one of those intangible things that you just got a sense of, and she had gotten said sense.

"You alright, Kurt?"

"Yes," He answered, and there was that hesitation again, but then he continued with a comment that made her burn with warmth and smile a million-watt goofy grin. It also stirred the butterflies in her stomach into a frenzy. "Was just thinking it is....nice to hear your voice again."

Her mouth moved before her brain could process what she actually wanted to articulate. "It's only been a few days."

"Yes, but in Pym household, few days feels like few months."

Jenna laughed at that and slid out of the golf cart. "I don't doubt that." She paused, bit her lip, and added, "And, for the record, it's very nice to hear your voice, too." She stopped again, wanting to say something else - aching to say something else - but not knowing whether or not it would be a good idea. She opened her mouth, then promptly closed it again. "I should go." There was a disappointing pang that came with the words. 

"Right. Do not get fired." 

Jenna chuffed light laughter. "Yeah. Don't want that. I'll text you tonight, after I get back from the movie."

"Sounds good," Kurt said with genuine pleasure and once more that fuzzy warmth spread through her, radiating from her chest and making her tingle. "Talk to you later." 

"Bye." Jenna hung up, let herself stand in the misty rain and cool, damp air for a few moments more with that goofy smile on her face, then turned to duck back into the building and get right back to work. 

* * *

Jenna wound up not texting, but calling him instead. it was nine at night, and she was in bed, dressed down in baggy black gym shorts and a white tank top, leaning against her pillows with one leg folded over the other and her phone held to her ear. She recounted the evening she'd spent with Caleb: the movie they'd seen ("It wasn't bad, but it wasn't great") and, more importantly, the conversations they'd had. She told of how restless and antsy and enthusiastic he'd seemed, and when she'd made a teasing comment on it, he'd just responded with a quip about how things were falling into place and how the odds of him snagging that prime property he'd been eyeballing were nice and high. Otherwise, the night had been relatively uneventful. She ended her spiel with a sigh, then followed it up with an inquiry as to how they were doing and if anything had changed on their end. 

"No," Kurt answered with a breathy puff of his own. "Everyone is tense, and believe me when I say tension does not help Hank's - I would say moods, but it is more his...personality."

Jenna snorted because she knew exactly what she meant. Hank was notorious for his cantankerousness, and even for the meager few hours she'd spent with him, she thought that word encapsulated him well. "Got it. Look on the bright sid,e though - t-minus seventy-two hours or so until you can escape the confining walls of the Pym manor."

"Right." He laughed but then his voice turned wistful and dreamy. "T-minus seventy-two hours or so until I can sleep in my own bed."

"You'll be in heaven as soon as you lay down." 

"And I am very much looking forward to it."

"I bet." The feeling of finally returning to one's own bed was exquisite. She knew that very well. "And, y'know, t-minus seventy-two hours until Ca - the guy's taken care of and out of our hair and put where he belongs." Her smile dimmed and turned into a scowl. "I'm not going to lie to you, Kurt. I can't even count how many times the impulse to just - just reel back and sock him in the face has occurred to me over the last few days."

He didn't try to reason with her or wax about how doing such a thing would've had tremendous repercussions and he was glad she hadn't done it. Instead he said, simply and straightforwardly and sympathetically: "I know. He certainly deserves it." 

"Then again," Jenna said and as she spoke she realized that she actually sounded kind of rational and Kurt's voice of reason was rubbing off on her, "I don't know how much help I'd be if I was tucked away in jail, so I guess I should keep from doing anything rash." The latter half of the sentence sounded weird coming from her lips. 

Kurt agreed, and suggested that she envision how satisfying it would be to see him led away in cuffs, and to know that he'd be out of the way and taken care of for a long, long time. 

Jenna knew he was right. "None of that will bring any of those people he killed back," She said, voice suddenly tight and solemn. 

"Neither will punching him," Kurt returned gently. 

She slumped back against her headboard, tipping her head back against the wood. "You're right, you're right." She combed her fingers through her hair and then, in a moment eerily reflective of the one they'd shared earlier that day, there was a silence. 

Kurt was the first to break it. "Before I forget, do you happen to know where property the guy -" They opted out of using his name for a wide variety of reasons. "Is looking at is?" 

"I don't have the specific address, but he said it's by a local pizza joint. _The Pizza Box_ , down on Hyde. I'm guessing the place he's looking at is either on the same block, or somewhere close by on Leavenworth." 

There was a brief pause, accompanied by the sharp 'pop' of a pen being uncapped, then he returned. "Thank you."

"No problem."

"Scott and Hope will check it out after they turn the man over, unless urgency dictates otherwise."

Jenna grinned. For a man who tended not to speak much, he sure had a way of coining great turns of phrase. His mention of Scott and Hope, however, revitalized her curiosity. "Speaking of, I know you said it's not your secret to share, and I won't step on that, but...do those suits they were wearing the other night have anything to do with....with anything, really?"

"Yes," Kurt affirmed, then paused. "Do you remember telling me you recognized me from Channel 7 interview last year, when we first met?"

Jenna did, and told him so.

"Do you remember seeing anything else from Channel 7?"

She thought for a moment. Her memory wasn't flimsy, but it wasn't great, either. Things tended to be filtered through, like her brain was a strainer and memories just fell through the holes. Not important or significant ones - those tended to be imprinted - but everything else was a gamble. She furrowed her brow, and thought hard, because she did remember that that day had been bizarre to the extreme, and then - "Oh! Yeah! There was some kind of huge...thing floundering around in the bay. Something big enough to be Godzilla's personal trainer." And then the pieces came together. "Holy shit." The suit Scott had been wearing - that was the same suit the enormous, eighty-plus foot giant had been wearing. That connection came quick, like a snap of the fingers. "Holy _shit_. That was Scott?" 

"Yes," Kurt responded, sounding both amused and proud. "It was." 

"Okay, now I no longer have any question about it being dangerous to send them in to take care of the guy, because oh my god. And if Hope's suit works the same way, then - yeah, he's doubly damned." She said that with unabashed glee in her voice. She considered for a moment. "Hell, Hope probably wouldn't even need the suit." 

Kurt chuckled at that. "Probably not." 

His Channel 7 questions stunned her into silence. They'd only known each other for - a week? Week and a half? If that? Yet it felt like it had been...forever ago. It was a difficult thought to wrap her head around, because how could such a short span of time feel so long? 

Kurt broke through her disbelieving reverie. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Oh, yeah, I was just thinking about time and perception and stuff like that. It hasn't even been a month, or even half of one, but it's _felt_ like a couple." She grinned. "Not to get too Hallmark-y, but it feels like forever ago that I came to your guys' office." 

"And told me I have incredible hair."

Jenna grimaced. "Oh, god," She said, but she couldn't help laughing. She remembered that, too. She also remembered bumping into the doorframe and earning a pretty nice bruise on her side. She also remembered them sitting at a comfortably close proximity, with their knees touching. Above all, she remembered that feeling - that electric, fuzzy feeling. The one she'd felt in the office, and when they'd been outside at the diner, and when they'd said goodbye at Pym's place. "Well, in any case, it was true. Still is." 

There was a flash of flustered silence on the other end, then he broke it. "Thank you."

"No problem," She answered warmly, still smiling. 

They switched gears, and talked for thirty minutes more. About Dave and Luis, who were doing fine, and manning the business while Scott and Kurt were away, and keeping an eye out for anything from Jenna. About Scott and Hank's latest squabble. About Jenna's day at work. And everything else under the sun. It was a casual, light conversation, and when they hung up, they did so reluctantly. 

Jenna stared at her phone for a minute, then rolled over onto her side so she could fumble for her cord and plug it in - the battery icon in the corner was blipping a bright, alarmed red. She set the charging phone on her nightstand, then flopped onto her other side, nestled into her pillows, and drifted off to sleep. 

**Day Four: Tuesday**

As with Sunday, the day was hers, and also uneventful. Jenna scarfed down some breakfast, then blazed through the door and dove into her work head-first, amping up her enthusiasm to make up for the break she'd taken the day before and the lackluster work she'd done. It was nice to finally break through that wall that had been such a challenge for her earlier, and she spent eight hours sitting, working, taking her lunch break, occasionally conversing with coworkers, then finishing her shift and driving home.

She hadn't heard from Caleb all day, and the only interaction they had was when she sent him a review of the film that they had seen and bickered over ( _ **'See? Other people agree w/me'**_ ) because blanking him completely would've been as suspicious as overwhelming him with messages. Nevertheless, the digital conversation didn't last long.

Which Jenna was absolutely fine with.

There was nothing to report, and she relayed that to Kurt through a quick text, which inevitably led to a long stream of texts, which, in turn, led to a phone call. She finished her night lounging in the bath tub, steam wafting in thick puffy curlicues from the water, phone held (carefully) to her ear as she chattered with him. 

**Day Five: Wednesday**

_**'Hey, Jenna. Clear your schedule for tomorrow night. I've got a surprise for you. I'll be by your place some time after 5.'** _

Jenna pored over that text as soon as she saw it, and all through breakfast, and thought about it as she drove to work. She thought about it while she parked, then as she used her key card to clock in and get access to the editing bay, and then as she sat down in front of the computer. The words circled around and around in her head and succeeded in keeping her heartbeat spiked. 

_Surprise,_ Jenna thought as she let her fingers work at the computer. _What’s that mean? Why’d he say it so ominously? Does that have anything to do with the property stuff he was so excited about?_ A new sudden thought jabbed into her head and made her hands pause and made her heart constrict unpleasantly. _What if he_ ** _knows_** _?_

There was no way that was possible. No way. She'd been doing such a good job, damn it, and keeping things under such tight wraps. Things between them had been normal and natural and organic. And yet, there was that ever-present 'but,' and riding on its coattails was an endless stream of what-ifs. What if he'd picked up on something so small and insignificant that she hadn't even registered it? What if he'd arranged for this 'surprise' because he knew that she knew about him and he intended to do something about it? The worst one of all was the one that was the simplest: what if he knew? The thought was chilling and she hated the fact that it unnerved her so much and had her palms slick with sweat. _No_ , she told herself firmly. _Not possible. He doesn't know. There's no way._

And not only was there the issue of the surprise itself and the gnawing anxiety that he had figured her out and had seen right through her, but there was the whole scheduling thing, too. She was probably overthinking it, and reading too much into his text, but - clear her whole schedule for the whole night? What in the world would occupy that big a chunk of time?

Her mind was a whirlwind of questions and when lunch rolled around and she could finally shoot him a reply ( _ **'Damn it, you're killing me with the suspense, but will do'**_ ), she was still lost in thought. That was what the entirety of her day wound up being - nothing but stewing in her thoughts and feeling the rapid  _thudthudthud_ of her heart beat fiercely in her ears. And when the day ended, and she drove home with her hands clenching at the steering wheel, the first thing she did as soon as she stepped over the threshold into her apartment was call Kurt. 

As soon as he said “Hello,” she was off and running, her mouth sprinting at a hundred miles a minute. “Hey, okay, so, I got a text from Caleb this morning and it’s really been freaking me out and I know I’m probably overthinking it but it’s very vague and I don’t like that at all.” She read the text, having memorized it - not really a difficult task, but nevertheless - then continued. “I don’t know what the surprise is and I don’t know why it’s going to take all night and usually I don’t care about not knowing things, I like being surprised and I like winging stuff, but this is the worst kind of suspense and -“

“Jenna?” Kurt asked gently. 

“It’s got me all kinds of tense because I don’t know what he means and I thought everything was going well and I thought I was actually doing a good job of handling this but suddenly everything’s falling apart because even though I know this isn't the case, I can't stop thinking about him knowing about what's going on and what I'm doing and -“

“Jenna?”

Jenna stopped at his second prompting. “What?”

“Breathe,” Kurt suggested. 

That one word punctured her endless waterfall of words and deflated her balloon of frazzled worry and she listened, pausing in both her speech and movements - she’d been pacing in tight little lines back and forth, worrying tracks into her rug - and inhaled deeply. She closed her eyes and felt the steadying influx and outflux of air ease her frazzled nerves. “Right. Okay.” 

“You were starting to sound like Luis for minute,” Kurt said, and his lightheartedness made her laugh, and laughing eased some of her tension and the tautness in her shoulders slowly began to dissolve. “Give me moment to process.”

“Right, right.” Jenna combed a hand through her hair and inhaled deeply again. She could still feel the panic bubbling up deep within her chest, but long, deep strokes of pulling in air then pushing it back out helped steady her and relax her sizzling nerves. 

After a few moments, Kurt spoke again. “It is dangerous to take things like this at face value, but I think that is what you may have to do in this case. Who is to say that the surprise is…” He paused, floundered, then settled on the perfect word. “Nefarious? He may just have gotten that property and wants to show it to you.” 

To hear her original theory articulated deflated her nervous energy and she toppled onto her couch in a loose jerk of limbs. “Thank you! That was my first thought, but then I just started overthinking, and it kind of snowballed from there - y’know, as overthinking often does.” 

“Right.” His end of the line fell silent, and she caught the sense of - something. Unease? Caution? Concern? “But if there is possibility of danger - “

The disquiet in his voice was indicative of her worry being catching. “Now who’s looking at it from the nefarious angle?” Jenna jested, but was rewarded with silence - so she sobered up. “I’ll be careful. I just freaked out today because I wasn’t expecting it and it kind of tripped me up, but I’ll be on my guard. Besides, I’ve got Dave and Luis for back-up, and that’s just in case. I think we’re both right - it’s just him being proud of his new investment.” She said that with complete confidence, but felt that was hasty, and would have added a ‘probably’ but then felt that would’ve defeated the purpose of being comforting and so bit her tongue. 

“Okay,” Kurt said but there was still that current of concern in his voice, and it was touching. 

“I’m gonna be okay. Besides, I've got all that pent-up energy from wanting to punch him in the face, so if anything happens, that's going to be my first instinct." She realized, suddenly and dizzyingly, that speaking all of this out loud did wonders in reassuring herself. Her heart was still pounding fiercely and her palms were still sweating but she could think more clearly, and the wave of panic that had drowned her brain was ebbing. She dropped onto her couch and exhaled. "Yeah," She repeated. "I'm gonna be okay. It's gonna be good."

"It is," Kurt affirmed, and his voice was steadier. More confident. "And I know nothing is going to happen, it will be fine, but if you do not mind, could you text or call me after 'surprise?'"

Jenna's heart did something interesting in her chest. "Why, Kurt -" For the billionth time, her mouth moved before she could stop it, and she teased, "It sounds like you care about me." Then she seized the reins again. "Yeah, of course." 

"Thank you." A pause. "I do." 

Jenna knew what he meant, and all of that teasing energy dissipated. "I do, too." She paused - then grimaced. "Care about you, I mean. Not me. Well, wait, no, I do care about me, 'cause that's important, but I just meant -" Great. Now that she was trying to be genuine, her tongue was tangling itself in knots. She huffed an exasperated sigh and tried again. This was embarrassing, and awkward, but she was going to work through it. "You know what I mean." 

"Yeah." She could hear the smile in his voice and it made her feel soft and mushy. 

"Alright, I think I'm gonna go. Should probably get some good sleep and get ready to deal with the guy." She sighed. 

"Sleep well," Kurt said, then paused, and added: "T-minus twenty-four hours."

Jenna bit her lip and grinned. He was right. This time tomorrow, she'd have washed her hands of Caleb, and Scott and Hope would be preparing to swoop in and nab him, and that would be it. But beyond that, there was another promise in that statement, in that voice, and that was exciting. "Yeah. T-minus twenty-four hours," She said, and then hung up.

She went to bed, but couldn't - and didn't - sleep until the clock struck two in the morning. 

** Final Day: Thursday **

Jenna didn't get much sleep, and that she got was awful and patchy and thin, but she woke up full of energy and vitalized nevertheless. It wasn't a happy, bubbly sort of energy, but a grim, determined one, and she set about her morning routine briskly. She headed to work and, in her car, cranked up the radio and listened to music loudly, drumming her hands against her steering wheel and humming and occasionally bursting into badly-sung song. She got to work, grabbed a cup of coffee from the main hub's miniature craft service bar, then ducked into the editing bay. She'd gone through a rollercoaster of emotions over the past couple of days, and her nerves had really been run through the grinder, but today - today that wasn't going to happen.

She stepped into the bay with a whistle on her lips, sat down in front of her computer, and got to work.

The eight hours whizzed by. Maybe it was Jenna's hearty, whole investment into her work for the precise purpose of not losing herself in suspense that did it, but whatever the reason, after working through hours of footage and splicing together over half of a coherent episode, she glanced at her phone and saw it was quarter to five. She usually was one of the last people to leave the studio - something about having to leave precisely at five on the dot or afterwards but never before dictated that - but today was the exception. She saved her progress, logged out, powered down her computer, and was all packed up and ready to go in five minutes. Which left another ten, which also meant that she would have to call in a favor. 

She scanned the rows of computer desks, spotty with empty seats, and her gaze landed on Kim, the woman who had still been hard at work when Kurt had stopped by the studio after-hours to install their new spiffy security systems. She quickly rounded the seats and approached her and apologetically interrupted her session to ask her if she could do Jenna a solid by telling Amelia, their boss, if she happened to stop by, that she'd had to run due to unexpected circumstances. Ten minutes wasn't necessarily a big gap, but it was better to leave early with an excuse - no matter how flimsy it was - rather than just vanish. Kim agreed, and Jenna thanked her profusely - then split. 

She drove home in a hurry. Now that she was out of work, and time was ticking down, and she had that weighing feeling that something was going to happen, be it good or bad, she was restless and antsy and had lost some of the cool that had enabled her to focus on nothing but work. She got home, practically flew up the stairs and into her place, and 'freshened up' - ran a brush quickly and haphazardly through her hair, slipped her wallet out of her purse and tucked it into her back pocket because she didn't want to be saddled with anything unnecessary, and downed a can of soda. 

By the time she was finished getting ready, it was 5:15. Her throat was tight and she was buzzy all over, but not in a pleasant way. She grabbed for her phone, pulled up her conversation with Kurt...then backed out, and instead created a new text chain with Dave and Luis. _**'Hey, guys. No 911 situation here, but the guy's taking me for some kind of 'surprise.' Don't know if I'll be able to get away with texting more than this, and I'm about to leave w/him, but just thought I'd reach out and let you know. I don't know for sure but I might be going somewhere on Hyde/Leavenworth.'**_ As she finished the text, a knock sounded on the door, and the noise jolted her heart into overdrive. She quickly tapped send, tucked her phone into her other pocket, and took a second to gather her nerves and compose herself.

This was it.

She opened the door to Caleb's smiling face. "Ready for that surprise?" He asked, and grinned, flashing his too-straight and too-perfect and too-white teeth at her.

"Yep!" Jenna said cheerfully, and stepped out into the hallway, and turned to lock her door. "Lead the way," She said once she turned back to Caleb. 

He smiled at her, and they left. 

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

Luis and Dave sat in plush armchairs in the living room of the apartment Luis shared with Dave, their seats shoved together and angled towards the TV. They were both perched on the edge of their chairs, attention wholly absorbed by the intense digital battle they were currently enveloped in. They mashed the buttons on their controllers with frenzied fervor, and occasionally hissed or grunted curses under their breaths, and worked to take each other's avatars down. Luis crowed victoriously when his pixelated warrior aimed a blow that stunned Dave’s pixelated cleric, but fetched an enormous groan seconds later when Dave used one of his character’s abilities to regain a considerable amount of health back and set to retaliating feverishly (“Dude, picking that character’s totally cheating. You have advantages nobody else does!” “Nah, man, you’re just mad ‘cause you didn’t think about picking him first! You don’t ever look at stats, you just pick who looks the strongest, but that’s not always the case. You gotta use something called _strategy._ bro-”” Their squabbles took on the tone and ferocity of young siblings bickering passionately). 

Luis's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he abruptly tapped the pause button on his remote, freezing their characters mid-action, with their health bars (slipping from the yellow range to the red, making the match even more tense). He slipped his cell out of his pocket and read the text Jenna had sent him while Dave took advantage of the brief lull in their sparring to go fetch himself a drink from the fridge (and flex his fingers - the joints were tight and cramping). When Dave came sauntering back into the living room sipping at a soda, Luis rose, and looked at him with a brow furrowed with concern. "Hey, man, Jenna just texted us. It's not an emergency or anything, but it sounds pretty sketchy."

Dave, whose own phone was charging in the kitchen, frowned and took the cell Luis offered to him. He scanned the message quickly, then looked up and raised a brow as he passed the phone back to its owner. “Yeah. I dunno if any surprise that dude has up his sleeves is a good thing.” 

“We should go, right?” It was a rhetorical question. He was already shoving his phone back into his pocket and crossing the room to snatch the keys to the van off of a corkboard riddled with hooks, off of which hung a smorgasbord of other keys, as he posed it. 

"Yeah," Dave affirmed immediately, then took a long pull from his drink and moved to set it on the coffee table ("Coaster," Luis said automatically and Dave rolled his eyes but obliged him because 'the table was made out of this really beautiful mahogany wood, and it just got varnished and everything' and stains would discolor it). "We probably shouldn't go in guns blazing, y'know, but keeping an eye out, just in case our services are needed, would be good."

"Surveillance," Luis said, nodding, as they passed through the foyer and he popped open the front door and held it for Dave, who passed through with a nod of thanks. He followed suit, turned to lock the door, jiggled the handle just to double-check because he had literally just locked it but he liked being absolutely sure, all the same, then turned to join Dave on the sidewalk. 

"Yeah, man," Dave said as they headed off towards the familiar, homely brown-orange van waiting at the curb. "Surveillance." 

* * *

Jenna and Caleb emerged from the innards of their apartment complex to a sun reluctantly sinking behind the mountains, the sky still painted a light, gentle shade of blue. The storm that had passed over their chunk of California a few days ago had seemed to wash and buff the city clean, making everything look and feel fresh and bright and shiny. Jenna inhaled deeply - in part because the air smelled sweet today, and also to steady her nerves - and started to head towards her car, where it was parked in one of those underground garages designed to fill the needs of tenants who couldn’t find an available spot on the cramped, thin streets, but Caleb stopped her. 

"No," He said, and offered her a grin when she raised an eyebrow at him. "It's too nice a day to waste and, besides, it's not that far away. We're going to walk."

Jenna agreed amicably enough, and they set off down the sidewalk in a casual, relaxed shamble. Her heart pulsed fervently in her throat as they walked because the day really was nice, and ordinarily she’d be enjoying the hell out of it, but...there was something nasty gnawing at her, something rife with fear and tension, that distracted her from whatever enjoyment she would've gleaned from the beautiful weather. She knew the suspense that had been weighing on her chest all day had birthed that unease, but it didn’t make it any easier to handle. They walked, and jawed absently about their days, and Jenna laughed and smiled and teasingly elbowed him but it was all fake. So incredibly, painfully, horrendously fake.

They turned right at the end of their block, walked down the new street, then made a left, and another abrupt right, and Jenna couldn't help but think about the streets feeling as though they’d been designed by the same artist who’d painted those pieces with staircases zigging and zagging every which way, but then she realized Caleb had stopped, and was looking at her with an expectant grin, with his hands tucked in his pockets. “Voila,” He said, and she turned. 

Before them, planted on a street corner, stood a building stripped down to its barest essentials. There was nothing interesting or remarkable about it - it was not much more than just a shallowed-out shell, with slate-gray walls and concrete that housed cracked, dusty windows and a door that looked out-of-place given how sturdy and modern it was (probably installed by the realtors). Jenna studied it and marveled at the fact that she very well could’ve passed the building right on by without a second thought, because it just seemed to - to blend. To disappear. Even though its location was interesting, because in this particularly squeezed area of the city, lots were rare and borderline mythical, the building itself was...ghostly. 

She looked back at him with a raised brow, genuinely not knowing what to think, and he rumbled laughter. “I know, I know. It’s kind of a fixer-upper, for sure, but...this is it.” He looked back at the building, his face radiating a pure, powerful pride and delight. “Got my hands on it yesterday, stopped by the realtor’s and got the key today, and….here we are. My very own restaurant.” 

“Congrats,” Jenna said, offering him a grin. She still felt stiff and wooden - like a puppet being manipulated flimsily on strings. “That’s quite the endeavor.” She eyed the building again. It definitely wasn’t much, that was for certain, but there was something about it that unnerved her. Maybe it was the emptiness, or the fact that Caleb seemed to be so enamored by it. She supposed the latter could be attributed to his acquiring it, but that was a flimsy reason, and the sharp, suspicious part of her brain knew better. 

Caleb saw the way she was still looking at it and laughed. “Thank you, thank you. Again, it’s not much, but it’s a start, and that’s all I need.” His eyes glinted and something blazed through them but it passed before Jenna could put her finger on what it was. “C’mon. Let’s poke around inside.” He fished a key out of his pocket and held it pinched between his index finger and his thumb. 

“Sounds good,” Jenna said, and followed him as he walked towards the door, palming the key. Her throat was dry, and her usual spark had fizzled. Gone was the boisterous, sprightly, overenthusiastic Jenna - replaced by a sallow-faced, solemn, grim woman whose nerves had been rubbed down to thin, ropey strings. She’d been feeling so good - so confident - so determined - just a few hours ago, but suddenly all of that had been knocked right out of her, like a blow to her stomach. 

And, as she followed him to and through the door and into his ‘restaurant,’ she realized that was because she was frightened. Terribly so. It was a queasy, nauseating feeling, one that rendered her...serious. Something her mom had always wanted her to be. She would be proud, Jenna thought sardonically and bit down on the inside of her lip to keep from smiling a sharp, tight smile, lest Caleb notice, and she forcefully heaved that thought away, and instead followed Caleb into the darkness of the building. 

* * *

"Man, we've been around this block, like, three times and haven't seen either of them. Try going on Leavenworth. She said they might be going there." Luis sat in the passenger seat of his van, toying absently with his phone and peering out of the passenger window. 

"I'm being thorough, Luis," Dave grumbled, but obliged. He flicked on his turn signal and cruised down the street in question, passing the arrangement of little shops their business was tucked in. Thanks to the strict residential regulations and the tight, cramped streets, paired with the traffic, he was able to coax the van along at a slow, cozy shamble. 

They both peered out of their respective windows as Dave drove, keeping their eyes out. The van wasn't the most inconspicuous undercover vehicle, but that didn't matter - the Caleb dude wouldn't be able to recognize it, nor them, if he happened to spot them. That, and it was the only vehicle they had, so it worked. 

They drove slowly, and were approaching the end of the block when Luis frowned and shook his head and was about to suggest that they do another circuit around Hyde when Dave straightened in his seat and the van lurched. "Oh, shit," He said, eyes glued to a dilapidated building. "There they are!" 

Luis looked over and, sure enough, they were just in time to see Jenna disappear through the gaping doorway of the lone building. There was no doubt that it was her - this was within the range of the location she'd sent, for one, and Dave caught a flicker of her face, wearing a furtive expression, before she disappeared and the door closed behind her. 

The guys exchanged looks, but said nothing. What was there to be said about someone slinking into an abandoned, ramshackle place that looked ready to collapse into rubble at any minute? Luis pointed out a parking spot on the right side of the road, and Dave quickly slipped into it, and soon they were sitting in the idling van and Luis had his phone to his ear because he had a really bad feeling about this, and judging by the way Dave was sitting back and drumming his fingers rapidly against the steering wheel, he did, too. 

Scott answered on the first ring. 

* * *

 The first thing Jenna did when she entered the building - after casting one more longing glance behind her into the fresh, sweet, balmy air of the evening - was sneeze. The whole place was coated in thick, grimy layers of dust, and cobwebs hung in thick, stringy bunches in corners, and the musty, stale reek that seemed to be pasted into the walls and floor was enough to choke her. She sneezed once - twice - a third time, then shook her head to clear it. “If you do open a restaurant here,” She said dryly and some of her attitude resurged with the remark, “You might want to think about cleaning it from top to bottom at least three times, or you’ll have a difficult time getting anything above a ‘C’ rating.” 

Caleb, picking his way through the empty husk of the structure with ease and familiarity, turned and grinned at Jenna. In the gray darkness which was untouched by what scant light filtered in through the grimy, filthy windows, his teeth seemed to gleam. "Don't worry. I'm planning on doing some serious renovations to get this place up to my standards. "By the time I'm through here, I'll get a triple A rating." 

"I don't think that's a thing," Jenna pointed out dryly. 

He chuckled, but ignored her, and proceeded to outline his plans, pointing here and there, jabbering on about where he envisioned the tables and booths, and how he'd have a bar that stretched the length of one of the walls where single diners could sit and order drinks of any and all caliber, and where he intended to construct the kitchen, which would be stuffed to the brim with state-of-the-art equipment and staffed by the best chefs his deep wallet could buy. He transitioned from there to the menu, which he wanted to be varied and versatile and cover the whole spectrum of cuisine, which was an ambitious task and a tall order, but, hey, he was an ambitious guy -

Jenna tuned out his droning and followed him as he walked through the space and spouted his plans. She couldn't concentrate on his voice, or his words - their footsteps against the cracked, chipped cement were far too loud, and the thrumming of her heart was far too uneven and quick. She felt scared, and nervous, and nauseous. Above, and worst of, all, was the fact that she just didn't feel like herself. She felt like a stranger in her own body. As soon as that unpleasant, uncomfortable thought flitted into her head, she looked at Caleb's back and felt a molten bubble of rage blossom in her chest. She hated him - hated him with a fiery passion. She'd be damned if she was going to let him have this effect on her anymore - she'd be damned if she was going to let him get under her skin, and make her feel nauseous, and make her feel frightened, and strip her down to a walking, talking bundle of nerves. That rush of anger revitalized her, and brought color surging into her cheeks, and drowned out that fear, and she looked at him with her fists clenched in the pockets of her jeans.  _Fuck you,_ She thought with venomous vehemence, and it was incredibly satisfying.  _Fuck you to hell, Caleb. For what you've done to me, and for what you've done to all of those other people, and their families, and their children, and their dreams and ambitions and goals. Fuck you._

She came to, rising from her surge of anger that had enabled her to take herself back, and now, as she stood there in front of what looked to be a closet, and thought about the fact that she was going to help take this guy down, and he would pay for everything that he'd done and everyone that he'd hurt, and she felt determined. She felt good. She felt strong.

She felt like herself.

Caleb was still talking, and she tuned back into his stream of words. "And now for the pièce de résistance. My office." He looked at her over his shoulder, and smiled, and waggled his eyebrows, and she smiled right back at him. He redirected his focus to a smooth, metal panel. He popped it out of place, exposing a keypad and a couple of scanners - all of looked incredibly high-tech, and incredibly out of place. He punched in a code, fingers flying over the buttons, then pressed his thumb to one of the scanners, and knelt to peer into the other. 

"Wow," Jenna said, barely managing to stifle her internal delight because this was an indication that there was something behind that door that was worth protecting so extensively, something that was far beyond a simple manager's office. "That seems...a little excessive for an office, don't you think?" There was still a touch of fear making her heart pound, but it was overridden by foolhardy adrenaline that made Jenna...Jenna. 

Caleb straightened when the scanners chimed cheerfully in unison. He slipped the panel back into place, and popped open the door, which led to a set of stairs that descended into darkness. He looked over his shoulder at Jenna, and there was something in his greasy, wry grin that made her restored confidence flicker briefly. "Not really. I've got a lot of valuable stuff down here - stuff worth protecting." He beckoned for her to pass through the door first. 

She nodded thanks, thinking all the while how easy it would be to just jerk her knee up right then and there and jam it into a place that wasn't meant for knees to be jammed into, and plodded past him to start trekking down the stairs. She walked into a rich, inky blackness, and picked her way down the steps with an uncharacteristic cautiousness, because the last thing she wanted was to miss a step or stumble and go plummeting and tumbling down the stairs. She walked down - and down - and down - then finally stepped onto solid, flat ground. She couldn't see a damn thing, so she only inched forward, and turned around, and then the only light source, that coming from the open door, was abruptly pinched off. 

She and Caleb were alone. 

In the darkness.

Jenna felt her courage shift, and her heart leapt lithely into her throat as she dried palms damp with nervous moisture on her thighs. She opened her mouth to crack a joke about his being a vampire or being allergic to the light when there was a sharp click, the sound of a flip being switched, and she screwed her eyes up in anticipation of a flood of bright, piercing light - which didn't come. She blinked, and realized that the light was...blue.

The room itself was still dark, but the lights overhead emanated a rich, deep blue, which bathed the midnight-black walls and floor in a soft wave of cobalt. The effect was momentarily dazzling - the light seemed to be rippling, like gently churning, sloshing ocean waves, and appeared to be iridescent with varying shades of blue. Jenna, distracted from the task at hand by the unexpectedness of the room, stood in the middle of the basement, photos and paintings of oceans and the dwellers that called it home adorning each wall. She saw a sofa with a pillow and blanket neatly folded on top of it, she saw workbenches arranged in neat rows with tarps draped over whatever they carried and creating mystifying lumps under the fabric, and she saw a cluster of chairs shoved into one corner of the room. Before her was an enormous desk, on which perched an array of computer monitors, and, attached to the wall above it, loomed an impressive flat screen TV display. 

Jenna gawked because she hadn’t been quite sure what to expect, but this certainly hadn’t been it. She’d thought his ‘office’ would be something more like a lair or a dungeon, not this admittedly eccentric but actually kind of beautiful and serene lounge. The lumps under the tarps, however, and the chairs, and the ominous amount of monitors, didn’t settle well with her and stirred up unease again, and she was about to turn and ask him about those when she felt something cold and hard press firmly against the nape of her neck. 

"Sorry about this," Caleb said, and sounded anything but. "I'm going to need you to put your phone, wallet, and keys on the desk." 

Jenna swallowed thickly, made difficult by the fact that her throat felt as though it had shrunken to the size of a pinhole. Her fear had reared its ugly head again with a biting vengeance. On a whim, though, she decided that it would be better for her to keep up the charade - act confused, and bewildered, like she had no idea what was going on. The brace of the muzzle of a gun against her neck chilled her blood to frosty degrees, which made conveying her shaken befuddlement easy to convey. "Caleb? What -" She tried to turn and the gun jammed into her neck and she winced. "What the hell's going on?"

"I'll answer your questions after you do what I said." His voice sounded casual and lax, almost lazy, as if he was just pointing out another feature of his ‘restaurant’ rather than threatening her at gunpoint. She obliged, moving slowly, heart hammering away in her throat and temples, fear and anger competing for the top emotion knotting in her chest and stomach. She removed her wallet, phone, and keys from her pockets and set them onto the desk. “Now go ahead and grab a seat," He instructed. "Don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” 

Jenna slowly shuffled over to the mass of chairs, the gun remaining firmly jammed against her neck every step of the way. Before she could sit, he instructed her to move it to the middle of the room. She did so, kneeling to pick it up rather than drag it (as per his request), grunting, feeling the muscles in her shoulders and back straining because the chair was unbelievably heavy. She waddled to what she could best approximate was the center of the room, dropped the chair directly underneath the blue bulbs overhead with a loud bang, and turned to face Caleb. He waved the gun at her impatiently. She dropped into the chair. She was moving mechanically, automatically, but her brain was whirring at a million miles of hour. Looking at him as he tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans then knelt to pick up the leather straps attached to the arms of the chair, a wave of red hot anger washed over her and before she knew what she was doing, she shifted forward in her seat and slammed her head against his nose. That was the one perk of being short, she couldn’t help thinking as pain exploded in her forehead and spread from temple to temple - she was able to target the prime area of his burly face. There was a grotesque, wet cracking sound and he reeled backwards and swore and the bellow burst from his chest like the roar of an angry grizzly. Jenna paid no attention to her pain and shot up from her seat but while she was quick, he was quicker, and suddenly he was standing and looming over her, nose crooked and blood dripping over his lips, and he cocked his fist back and drove it into her stomach.

All of the fight - and her breath - went out of her in the instant that impossibly strong hammer of a hand drove into her. Her legs crumpled and she collapsed back into the chair, wheezing, arms curling around her aching abdomen.

Caleb looked at her for a minute, wiped the blood off of his face with the sleeve of his jacket, then smiled. “Nice try,” He said, then reached for her forearms, yanked them viciously away from her body and pinned them to the arms of the chair, and strapped them down. Tight. The leather bit into her skin and constricted around her muscles. “You took me by surprise. That hardly happens nowadays so thanks for that little treat.” He rose, and felt at his nose, and grinned.

Jenna sat there, head throbbing, pain pulsating in her abdomen with each breath she took, and head throbbing something fierce as if someone had taken drumsticks to it, and glared at him. Gone was the charade, but she didn’t care one bit. A billion razor-sharp questions - and obscenities - blazed through her head at whirlwind speed, and that anger from earlier came burbling back. 

Seeing the look in her eyes and the unspoken questions on her lips, Caleb grinned. “So you know. That’s good. I was dreading having to explain myself. Don’t know or care how you found out, ‘cause it’s not really going to matter soon, but I hate wasting my time. You have no idea how horrible these past few weeks have been for me.” He tucked the gun back into his pants and wasted no time in turning back to his desk and powering on one of his monitors. 

Jenna snorted. The sound was snuffly and ugly and ripped painfully through her chest. “Yeah, okay. Sorry, but I’ve got no sympathy for you.” She paused, then added, “And I highly doubt you’ve had a worse time than all of those people you killed.” Her voice shifted into a low tone rich with venom and anger. 

Caleb didn’t respond immediately. He was busy tapping away at his computer. He paused to turn the TV monitor on and the image it displayed was a reflection of them. Jenna saw herself, sitting in the middle of the room, restrained, chest heaving, looking wild and disheveled, eyes wild and panicked with fear and fury. She saw Caleb, tilting his head back to check the monitor and make sure the image was crystal clear, which it was. He took a remote from a desk drawer and toyed with it for a moment, then turned back to her. His nose was still crooked and there was a drying splotch of blood on his upper lip that he’d missed. He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Yeah, I don’t doubt that. But I had to do what I had to do.”

Jenna jerked back in her seat, disgusted. “You didn’t have to do _any_ of that! I know about you, about what you can do, and you definitely didn’t have to go - go feast on other people like that. I’ve seen you eat. We’ve eaten together before. You could’ve just stuck to regular food!” The argument felt inane but it came bursting from her tongue nevertheless. Her eyes were beginning to sting and swell with tears - the volcano in her chest was erupting with scalding hot emotion.

Caleb shrugged again, and the casual callousness with which he did that turned her stomach and brought a nasty, bitter taste surging through her throat and to her lips. “Not as filling. Or satisfying.” He toyed with the remote again, then looked at her. 

She stared at him with bewildered eyes and reeled because she’d thought, she’d believed, this monster to be her friend. 

“Think of me like...a shark.” That metaphor pleased him, gauging by the glint in his eye, and she realized that that was precisely how he saw himself. “Why would sharks bother with cods or snappers when they could have seals? Or sea lions?” 

Jenna knew exactly what he meant and her stomach worked again and she clamped her lips shut to keep from vomiting then and there. Instead, she just glared at him, and when she finally could swallow the bile back, she spoke. “And why, exactly, am I here? You gonna eat me, too?”

Caleb laughed at that and shook his head. “No, not at all. I’m not hungry, for one.” That sent uncontrollable chills down Jenna’s spine. “And, for another, I need you.” He gestured towards the TV monitor. “You’re my volunteer for this video I’m going to shoot. I need to prove to some people who...fired me, I guess is the best way to put it, that they made a mistake.” A shadow fell over his face, and his smile disappeared, and his lips curled, and his eyes darkened. He looked...frightening, and thunderously angry. “A very big one. And I couldn’t prove to them what they’d lost out on and make them regret doing what they did, and have them crawl back to me, without someone to showcase my skills on.” Just as soon as it had appeared, the shadow that had passed over his face was gone, and he smiled again. “And that’s where you come in.” 

* * *

 A sudden, sharp rap on the window startled Dave from the conversation he’d been having with Luis - they’d been debating about whether or not to rush in after Jenna, and they’d spent the last fifteen minutes poring over the pros and cons of such a decision - and he rolled it down to see Scott’s scruffy face peering in at them. He was dressed in his suit, and standing next to him was Hope, her face grim with determination, also suited up. 

“What’s going on?” Hope asked before Scott could speak. 

“Jenna texted us, like, thirty minutes ago, saying she was gonna go meet up with the Caleb dude, and we decided it’d probably be a good idea to try to find out where she was, y’know, so we could be there if she needed us, ‘cause we’re the backup, right? But she went in there -” Luis pointed towards the decrepit building, and Scott and Hope both looked at it. “About fifteen minutes ago, and hasn’t come back yet. We’re assuming she went with the guy, but we didn’t see him. We definitely saw her, though.”

“They went in there?” Scott reiterated, furrowing his brow, following the direction of Luis's finger. “It looks like it’s gonna fall down any second.” 

Dave shrugged. “It’s gotta be that property he bought.”

Hope, still studying the building, shook her head. “I don’t like this. We’re going in. C’mon, Scott.” She looked at the guys in the van and gave them a nod. “Thanks for the heads-up.” Her helmet zipped from the collar of her suit and with the press of a button she was gone, reduced to the size of a buzzing insect. Scott nodded, gave them both a look - “Good luck, Scotty,” Luis said, and Scott smiled briefly - and jammed his thumb down on one of the buttons on his glove and he, too, vanished. 

Dave and Luis exchanged looks. “Think we should follow ‘em, just in case?” 

Luis considered, then shook his head. “Not right now. I think there’s someone else we gotta call.” 

* * *

 Jenna said nothing and only stared at Caleb with a clenched jaw and blazing eyes as he moved towards one of those workbenches and stripped the tarp off with a flourish, balled it up, and tossed it aside. She pulled her gaze away from him to look at the array of mechanical knickknacks and weapons that looked nonsensical but sharp and frightening and deadly and suddenly she had a tough time swallowing again. 

“I would say I’m not going to kill you, but I don’t think that’s a promise I can keep.” He picked up something that looked like an inhaler and fiddled with it, rolling it around in the palm of one hand. “I know what each one of these bad boys does, but I’ve never actually been able to test it on anyone before. I was trying to think about how I’d go about experimenting because I highly doubted anyone would just waltz right in here with me and willingly participate -” He said this with a wry little grin. “But then, lo and behold, you and your Good Samaritan ways came stumbling into my life. There were definitely a couple of times when I wasn’t sure if it was worth it, to put in the effort to befriend you until we could get to this point,” He turned back to Jenna and gestured towards the lounge with a sweep of his hand. “Because being friends with you was aggravating. You never shut up, for one. You’re also incredibly, impossibly gullible, which, to be fair, was more of a pro, for me, but nevertheless it just made you look incredibly dumb, and -”

Jenna didn’t care that he was insulting her. The stuff he was talking about was all true, after all, but she didn’t feel hurt, or stung. She’d felt that raw pain when she’d first discovered that Caleb had been toying with her, manipulating her, but now she felt nothing, because this asshole wasn’t worthy of any more of her time, or energy, or feeling. He could talk circles around her, berating her, calling her stupid, calling her aggravating, whatever - he could try to knock her down whatever peg she was on, but there was one thing he’d forgotten to mention that she was, and that was obstinate, and she wasn’t going to relent her hold on that for anything in the world. 

He was droning on, and on, while still looking lovingly at his widespread plethora of murder toys, and Jenna felt her lower lip split because she’d been biting into it hard enough to break the skin, and her mouth flooded with metal but she didn’t wince and instead just felt the sting of the cut and tasted the salt of her blood and then - 

She had an itch. 

It started from the crease in her elbow, then tiptoed down to her wrist. She frowned, and looked at her left arm, the mundane little thing snatching her attention away. Scratching was impossible, but maybe she could flip her arm over and rub it against the chair. Maybe it didn’t make sense to scrutinize something like this so thoroughly but doing it was allowing her to keep her head. When she looked at her arm, however, she saw what looked like a bipedal bug following scurrying along the length of her vein. Her frown deepened, and she bent to get a closer look at it. It didn’t seem like any ordinary bug. 

And then suddenly it was turning, and looking up at her, and waving its arms, and she realized the reason it didn't look like an ordinary bug was because it wasn’t a bug at all.

Perched on her arm, scrambling over the leather straps and working to undo them, was Hope Van Dyne. 

Jenna stared open-mouthed, watching her undo the series of straps on her left arm, then watched the sprightly woman leap to her right and begin work there, too. Her heart began to pick up its unsteady, rapidfire cadence again because freedom was only an inch or two away. Her eyes shot up and she looked at Caleb, who was still looking at his workbench, with his broad back to her. 

And then she was free. 

Hope zipped up to Jenna’s eye level - she had to almost cross them in order to look at her clearly - and tipped her some kind of signal, then whirred away in a tiny buzz, disappearing from sight, clearly planning something -

But Jenna, who didn’t do so well with the planning, let her adrenaline take hold. She sprung from her chair and lunged at Caleb without a second thought, heart throbbing in her ears and throat, and she was able to deliver a swift kick to the back of one of his knees and send him crumpling to the floor, and then he turned, and she lashed out, her fist hammering against his face and striking his broken nose and he bellowed and she bellowed right back at him because fuck, that felt spectacular, but then his arm was coming up and Jenna’s hands instinctively shot up to protect herself but then she realized he wasn’t intending to punch her, he had that inhaler thing grasped in his hands and was depressing the trigger. 

Jenna flinched back, preparing for the worst, but felt nothing. She looked at him, bewildered, as he lumbered to his feet and snorted and brayed blood from his nose and spit from his mouth, and she felt her hands curl into fists again because she would happily break all of her fingers punching him if that was what it took, and she was ready to throw another punch but then something white-hot exploded inside of her.

She screamed and fell back and stumbled over her own feet and crumpled onto the floor like a flimsy paper doll. Something was wrong - something was very, very wrong - she couldn’t think, she could hardly breathe, because of the pain. The hot, searing, agonizing pain sweeping over her from head to toe - pulsating, throbbing, spreading, erasing any semblance of autonomy and making her roll back and forth and seize. She tried to crawl along the floor, away from Caleb, but each movement sent a twinge of pain worse than before rolling up through her fingers and wrists and arms up to her shoulders and then it rippled through her already throbbing body and she screamed again and her head slammed to the floor and the pain from the impact was nothing compared to what she was enduring right then. Her nerves were on fire - a blazing, white-hot fire - and as she wept and thrashed because she felt like she was physically on fire, too, or being flayed alive, or being dismembered, her hands knotted into fists and cords on her neck stood out and her cut lip dribbled blood down to her chin and neck.

While Jenna writhed, Caleb got to his knees and stood looking at her with a delighted, hungry pleasure in his eyes as he aimed his favorite little pet tool at her, and he fumbled for the remote to press the record button with his other hand because this, this was what he wanted to show them, this is what he was capable of, her body was consuming itself before his eyes and it was better than he’d ever imagined, but as he found the remote and lifted it to point at the TV, an unfamiliar figure seemed to puff into sight before his eyes. The figure snatched his wrist, wrenched it to the side, made him bellow, then drove a gloved hand into his face. The pain in his broken nose blossomed and he roared and blindly aimed a punch for whoever the hell it was who had gotten in here, he didn’t know how it was possible, but here they were, ruining everything, goddamn them - 

Jenna lay several feet away from where they were tussling and slamming each other back and forth and fighting through workbenches and toppling them and jostling Caleb’s desk. She was face-down, on her stomach, face pressed to the ground and wet with tears, uncontrollable shivers rippling through her body. Her eye pressed to the ground was closed and the other was fluttering and she felt nauseous and the room was spinning and the fighting figures were blurred and she was certain the pain was going to knock her right out, and she would welcome it, because she couldn’t handle it anymore, it was like getting teeth yanked out without novocaine, like dealing with the world’s worst migraine, like giant forceps were pulling her apart piece by piece, cell by cell, atom by atom - all at once, and it was too much, it was excruciating, she couldn’t hold on anymore, it was - 

It was ebbing. 

The thought struck her like a bolt of lightning and snapped her out of the threatening fog of unconsciousness. Her headache was withdrawing, and she was able to think clearly, and her world no longer sounded like the steady and persistently obnoxious pounding of drums, and then the raw burn in her throat was ceasing, too, and soon Jenna found herself planted on the ground, weeping in relief because oh, god, the fire was pulling back, the pain was going, her body was relaxing, and soon she was left shivering and gasping and hitching for breath and clutching at herself because she felt like any sudden movement would make her fall apart and shatter into pieces like a broken porcelain doll, but when she was able to roll onto her side without splintering into fragments, she felt relatively reassured. 

Her vision began to clear, and she saw Hope and Caleb wrestling, and heard his bellows echo through the lounge, and she realized that the only reason the pain had stopped was because he’d dropped the stupid canister thing, and the epiphany that, had he kept going, her insides would’ve crumpled up like an aluminum soda can, hit her like a brick. She bore her way slowly - and painfully because her body had grown impossibly, unpleasantly sore and stiff but it was infinitely better than that sharp, nagging, incessant pain - towards it, reached out a hand, and curled her fingers over the canister. Though her head was ringing and reeling, she could think clearly enough to know that there was no way in hell she was letting him get his grubby hands on that thing again. 

Hope and Caleb were still fighting, and he was doing his fair share of whaling against her, but she was quicker, defter, and had the advantage of strategizing, not to mention the benefits of her suit. Caleb’s instinctive training was really the only thing keeping him on his feet, for he was putting all of his brute strength behind his blows and channeling a furious, feverish, blind rage that rendered him stupid. 

Jenna saw him grab Hope’s arm and hurl her against the wall, and he turned back towards Jenna again, but then Scott appeared from nowhere and cut him a good one across the chin and sent him staggering. “Who the hell are you?” He was undeterred and now his anger was fueling him. 

Jenna dragged her weary, blurry gaze from the fight and instead saw, on one of the workbenches that had been shoved towards her in Hope and Caleb’s initial scuffle, something that looked like a metal pipe. There were buttons and openings and levers, but to her, it was a metal pipe, and that was perfect. She inched her way over to the bench, groaning all the while, then reached up, grabbed it, and used it to bring herself to her unsteady, aching feet. Soreness throbbed through her from head to toe, but she worked through - pushed through it - with gritted teeth. She snatched up the metal bar and looked back towards where Scott and Hope were taking turns pummeling Caleb, who was revolving constantly around and around and swinging his fists and cursing up a storm. He dealt Scott a good one that sent him flying against the wall, then turned to Hope, and his back was exposed, and Jenna seized her moment.

She lurched across the room, tightened her grip on the metal bar, and brought it down on the back of his head with an animalistic grunt, and behind the blow was her anger and outrage at him and what he did and the monster he was, and the pain he’d caused everyone he had killed and their loved ones, and it was the most satisfying feeling in the world. 

It stopped Caleb short. He whirled, and the expression on his face was frightening. She’d never seen someone who looked so intensely, wildly murderous before, and he was the perfect picture of it. His lips were curled, blood coated his nose and mouth and teeth, and his eyes were wide enough to reveal their whites. A slow trickle of blood began to ease from his temple and caress the curves of his face. “You,” He said, and his voice was low, and thick, and dangerous, and Jenna shifted the metal bar in his arms and tilted her chin up and met his gaze with a fire of her own burning in her eyes because, yes, _her,_ and - 

Hope snatched at his shoulder, and he whipped around and slammed his foot into her gut and sent her flying. He whirled back on Jenna and, in the span of just a few seconds, bore down on her. He grabbed the pipe, yanked it from her hands - she was strong, but she was no match for him, and that particular tug-of-war lasted no longer than a few seconds - and shoved her brusquely up against the wall. Both of his big burly hands closed around her throat. His eyes blazed with fury - and a deep, piercing, bone-aching sadness and desperation. “You’ve ruined it,” He rasped. “You’ve ruined the whole goddamn thing.”

His fingers squeezed, pinching her windpipe shut. She gasped and wretched and writhed but his grip was iron. She clawed at his wrists and hands and striped his flesh with blood, but to no avail. So she only looked at him as he throttled her, and choked out, in a harsh, panting whisper, “Fuck - you - _Caleb.”_

That proved to be a mistake. His hands on her throat loosened, and for a moment she considered whipping her body off of the wall and trying to escape, but then she realized - something else was happening. 

The temperature in the room was dropping. 

She didn’t realize until she saw his clenched jaw and bulging eyes that it wasn’t the room that was cooling off.

It was her. 

He was pulling and easing the warmth out of her, like a magician yanking one of those magic handkerchief strings slowly and steadily from their sleeve. She dug at his wrists and clawed at him more, beginning to buck, her mind lost in panic, and the more she struggled, the quicker he was able to drain her. His lips quirked up into a vicious smile and he concentrated on channeling more - and more - and more of her thermal energy into his veins. 

He didn’t let go until Hope tackled him and thrust him away. He grunted in frustration and aimed a punch at her but she dodged it, drove a foot into his gut, aimed a punch at his face and hit his broken nose for the umpteenth time, and passed him to Scott, who took his turn volleying a series of quick, harsh blows at him. 

Jenna, braced against the wall, knew she was shivering but didn’t feel it. She was cold. So cold. Every inch of skin burned and stung with nipping, gnawing frostiness. Her hands, up to her wrists, felt like nothing more than limp lumps of meat. Her head was sluggish and think and she could think of nothing but how cold she was. 

She was so cold. 

She saw the blanket pinned beneath the sofa that had been overturned in the course of the fight, and swallowed with a throat that felt dry and painful. Once she’d zeroed in on that blanket, she could think of nothing but. Behind her, all three of them were still embroiled in war, but Caleb had been forced onto his knees. She lurched towards the blanket on stiff, wooden knees, looking very much like a zombie, and then - 

She was down for the count. She fell to the floor in muddy, thick slow motion, and by the time she hit the floor, her eyes were rolled up into her skull and her lips had turned an unpleasant shade of purple. 

The room seemed to explode seconds later. The door at the base of the steps slammed open, and a cascade of footsteps came drumming rapidly down. Luis, Dave, and Kurt broke into the room, saw the fight, saw the mess, saw Jenna’s body sprawled on the floor - 

Caleb saw the trio and grabbed a chair and hurled it in their direction. “Where do you keep coming from?” He screamed, agitated. The chair slammed against the wall to their left but all three instinctively ducked and scrambled away from the impact point. 

Kurt moved immediately towards Jenna while the others moved to help how they could (namely, snatching whatever they could get their hands on and chucking it at the man who, enraged and having nabbed some extra energy thanks to Jenna, was no closer to being subdued). He dropped to a knee, and gently rolled her onto her back. His heart thudded in his ears as he pressed two fingers to her neck. Her skin was cold - freezing cold. Her lips were turning colors, her eyes were open but unseeing, and the motion of her chest was thin and shallow. Her pulse was slow, sluggish; her heart was barely plodding along.

Kurt was frightened. 

“Jenna,” He said, and his voice was not much more than a thin, low groan. “Jenna, wake up.” He tapped at her face lightly, and her head lolled away, and he took that as a good sign. His heart spiked with dangerous optimism. “Jenna.” He looked around wildly, but the blanket he saw was too far away - he didn’t want to leave her - and then quickly, rapidly shrugged off his jacket. There was no doubt in his mind what he needed to do - warm her up. She was riding the incredibly thin line between the second and third stages of hypothermia, and if she toppled all the way into the third - 

Kurt cut that terrifying line of thought off. He wasn’t going to let that happen. He draped his jacket onto her, tucking it around her, doing his best, working without thinking because if he let himself think about what might happen if - 

She was looking at him. 

Jenna stared at the last face she had expected to see but the one that was undoubtedly the most welcome. Her vision was still bleary, but even fuzzy, his face was recognizable. “Kurt?” Her voice was shaky, thick - slow - and her words oozed from her mouth like molasses. 

He looked relieved, unabashedly so, and his hand touched the side of her face. “Jenna,” He breathed as his fingers traced the curve of her cheek. He looked over his shoulder at the fight that she couldn’t see, then back down at her. “Come on. We should get out of here.” 

With his help, she struggled to her knees - then her gaze flitted past him and she saw an opportunity that she didn’t want to throw away. Scott and Hope were teaming up to force Caleb back towards the middle of the room - towards the chair with the dangling leather straps. 

While her mind was slowly chugging back to life, she was still able to put two and two together. She shrugged away from Kurt’s hands and started crawling - slowly, painstakingly - away from him, towards the chair, inching along the floor like a doped-up sloth. 

“Jenna!” Kurt called after her, and moved to follow, but she shot him a quick look over her shoulder. Their eyes met. Hers bounced to the chair, then to Caleb, then back to him. Her teeth were chattering too much for her to risk speaking lest she nip off the tip of her tongue. Kurt got it, but sat rocked back on his heels, itching and crawling with unease. 

She resumed crawling. For a moment, she thought she would be too late, too slow, but then she was in front of the chair on her hands and knees, and Caleb was backing up towards her, and then his legs bumped into her and he lost his balance and rocked backwards and fell backwards into the chair with a heavy thump. 

The room erupted into a flurry. Jenna knelt, arms covering her head, as Hope and Scott promptly snapped his arms down and tied the restraints around and around his bulky forearms, and Dave came snaking up, armed with a thick black electrical cord, and drew it around his legs, and Caleb, who was battered and blooded and bruised, started struggling - but he was too late. 

She was able to crawl out from the tornado of activity surrounding her - and vaguely registered the firm buzz of a taser that apparently ceased Caleb’s struggling to some degree - and then Kurt was there again and kneeling and offering his hands and she took both of them and slowly, still trembling from head to toe, she rose to her feet. She staggered, shook her head, and caught her balance. Her mind was reeling, her heartbeat was still dangerously slow, and she felt as if she was living in a fever dream. She looked at Kurt, then back at Caleb, who was sitting slumped and restrained in the chair, lips curled and occasional grumbles rising from his chest and when he got a spurt of energy and bucked violently, Luis pointed the taser he’d stunned him with before at him again. 

Kurt’s hand touched her elbow, and his voice sounded in her ear as he guided her over to the stairs. “It’s over. You did it.” 

Jenna looked at him, still swimming in bleary disorientation. “I did it?” 

“You did it.”

She looked over at where Hope, Scott, Luis, and Dave were clustered around Caleb. “They did it.”

Kurt nodded. “They did it, too.” 

Jenna looked up at him. Her gaze traced carefully over his face. “You did it.” 

Kurt shook his head. “No, I -”

“Yes, you did,” She insisted firmly. “You got into the system. You found out about him.” She accentuated each sentence with a gentle pat of his chest. “You did it, too, Kurt.” She planted her feet into the floor - which, granted, didn’t give her much traction, given how unsteady and shaky she was. “I’m not budging until you say it.” 

“I did it, too,” He acquiesced with a small smile playing at his lips, but it quickly dropped when he noted the way her own mouth was quivering. His hand on her elbow slid up to her upper arm. “Let’s go. Van is waiting outside. Heater should be help warm you up.”

She let him tug her away, up the stairs, and when she shot one last glance over her shoulder, she saw Hope chattering urgently on the phone while Luis and Scott watched Caleb, hands - and tasers - held at the ready, and Dave poking around in his wealth of tools and weaponry. This was the last image of him she’d ever see - him sitting hunched over, face bloodied, chest heaving, looking not like the big burly monster but a small, shriveled man. A shrew. She allowed herself to delight in that image for just a few seconds, to drink it in, and savor it, because he was getting his comeuppance, but then she forcefully shoved that thought out of her mind because no longer was he going to take up any more real estate in her head, that was it, she washed her hands clean of him, and now - 

He was gone. 

Jenna returned to more important things - namely, her uncontrollable shivering, the burning in her arms and legs and face, the numbness prickling at her like sharp needles. She tugged Kurt’s jacket tighter around her with fingers that were an ugly purplish red as they eased their way through the shelled-out building. They emerged into the evening and crossed the street to the X-Con van. She walked on wooden, stiff legs and hugged herself and shuddered as Kurt slid the door back on its track. She managed a nod, climbed into the van, and quickly scooted over to the wall, where she turned and collapsed and heaved a heavy, shaky sigh that stuttered out of her parted, purple lips. 

Kurt climbed in after her, slid the door shut, and moved between the seats to thrust his key (they all had copies) into the ignition. The van rumbled to life, and he moved to crank the heater up as far as it could go. 

Jenna let her head rock back against the side of the van as she watched him. She was still freezing, and numb, which was good, because then she couldn’t feel the aches and pains from whatever the hell that tool of Caleb’s had done to her, but she knew that was inevitable, but it was also bad, because she was freezing - she felt frosty right down to her bones. 

Kurt’s jacket helped, though, and she thanked him for it as he sat down across from her. 

“No problem.” His worried gaze searched her face. “How are you feeling?” 

Jenna shrugged, and the movement was jittery. She felt the air in the van begin to warm, and she turned her face to the heater, and was rewarded with a blast of heat. She drank it in with a heavy, greedy sigh, gulping it down eagerly, enjoying the way it washed over her nose and eyes and lips and cheeks. She opened her eyes again and looked at him and shrugged again. “I’m alive,” She offered. She thought for a minute, then leaned back against the wall again, and shook her head. “Feels like I just got off of the world’s longest, most dizzying, and most twisty-and-turny rollercoaster ever.” She smiled wryly upon remembering the series of emotional cartwheels and backflips she’d been doing for the past week or so. “And now that I’m finished with it, all I can think is ‘thank god.’”

She spoke in a hitching, stuttering voice - she was careful to articulate, lest she bite into her tongue, but the fact that she could speak at all was surely a good sign. And as the van flooded with warmth, which seemed to melting the layers of ice she’d been encased in away layer by layer, she started to feel - less preserved. Looser. The color in her cheeks and nose and arms were beginning to dissipate. 

She was thawing out. 

“They’re gonna be okay in there, right?” She asked. It was a rhetorical question - she’d seen the way they’d held their own against him - but it was something she needed to ask nevertheless. 

Kurt nodded. “Yeah. Definitely.” 

Jenna looked at him as she began to unfold herself from the curled up position she’d instinctively taken, wincing as she stretched her legs out before her and unfolded her arms and flexed her fingers. Blood was beginning to burble through her system at something resembling a normal rate, and with it that tingling buzziness accompanying receding numbness. “Thank you, by the way.” 

He looked at her and raised a brow. “For what?” 

“Helping me out.” She stilled, hands resting limply on her thighs, and met his gaze. “And, uh, coming for me.” The phrasing was awkward, and she immediately grimaced. “Wait, that didn’t sound right -”

But he smiled, and his smile made her smile, and they both chuckled, and eventually that turned into laughter. 

When it tapered off, though, Jenna gave him a smile that was softer and sweeter than her usual grin. “You know what I mean, though.” 

He nodded. “I do, but there is nothing to thank me for.” He shook his head. “That is kind of thing you do for people you care about.” 

Jenna grinned, one of those barely-suppressed smiles complete with a gentle lip bite. She remembered that particular conversation vividly. She hadn’t even gotten the chance to think about what this whole situation wrapping up meant for her and Kurt, because the end had seemed so far away, but now here they were. Her heart sped up - with excitement? Nervousness? Relief? A mixture of all three? Now that she was free of that dangerously slippery slope of hypothermia, just feeling her heart beat quicker at all was a relief. “Yeah, you’re right.” She twiddled her fingers absently, working the numbness out of them. 

“Are you warming up?” Kurt asked after a beat of silence. 

She nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I don’t feel like a human icicle anymore, so that’s good.” She chuckled laughter. She was gradually beginning to feel progressively better, though the soreness was quickly beginning to override the cold. “Am I still freezing?” She reached a hand out to him. 

He took it, and his fingers curled around hers. He considered. “Chilly, but not frozen.” His thumb trailed over her knuckles, and she shivered - but these were pleasant chills traversing down her spine. 

He didn’t drop her hand, and she was immensely pleased. She curled her fingers through his, and looked at their intertwined hands, and very much liked the way it felt, and the way it looked, and - 

Jenna looked up and met Kurt’s gaze and suddenly the space in the van felt very, very small. Exquisitely so. Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt that prickle of exciting electricity zip through her, and it was then, looking at him, holding his hand, that she realized they were okay. They were safe. It was really, truly, over. They were alone, and together, and safe, and - 

They spoke at the same time. 

“Jenna, can I -”

“Do you think I could -” 

They stopped, and looked at each other, and grinned. Jenna laughed. “Guess we’ve got the same thing on our minds, huh?”

“I have been thinking about it for far too long,” Kurt admitted, and his cheeks turned rosy, and her heart swelled at his expression and the low, slightly husky timbre of his voice. 

“Me, too,” Jenna admitted, smile turning cheeky and crooked. “Remember the night at the diner? After we hung out at the studio? And we were just kind of...standing there, looking at each other?” 

Kurt’s gaze dropped briefly and his smile was bashful and flustered and amused. He looked up a second later. “I do, yeah.” 

“Been thinking about it since then.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

They both smiled at each other, two awkward dorks kneeling in the back of a van, but then Jenna decided that they’d been waiting for that kiss for far too long and leaned in and - 

They kissed. 

It was a light, brief kiss - more of a brushing of lips than anything - but when they did it, it was perfect. They pulled away - only an inch or so, their noses brushing - and Jenna chuffed a “Oh, _wow_ ” and Kurt managed a breathy chuckle but then she dropped his hand so she could take his face in both of hers and kiss him again, this time molding her mouth to his, and his hands fluttered momentarily before they flew to cup her face and their arms were tangled but it didn’t matter and they kissed with this hearty sort of passion, of hunger, and _relief_ because finally, and it felt good, so good, and right, and warm enough to melt Jenna completely, and her nerves were on fire, and so were Kurt’s, and -

The door to the van rattled open, and slid back home on its track with a loud thud, and they both started and broke apart, her hands having fallen to his shoulders and his still cupping her face.

Luis stood there and blinked, surprised, but his face broke out into a sunny, amused grin. “Well, that’s one way to warm up, I guess.” 

Kurt blushed and ducked his head, tongue in cheek, but Jenna just laughed. She reluctantly took her hands from his shoulders, and he dropped his, but their hands eventually found each other again. “Any updates?” She asked. 

Luis told her. A group of SHIELD officers were on their way to take Caleb into custody - Scott had an in with someone who had an in with them, apparently - and Hope and Scott were waiting with him to speak to them when they arrived. All of his tech had been powered down, ready to be confiscated and/or destroyed, and everyone was okay. It was all just a matter of time. 

Jenna slumped back against the side of the van, almost melting into it, heavy with relief - and still wired and thick-headed from her kiss with Kurt. He looked a little flushed, himself, and when he looked at her and smiled that grin that made her heart quiver, she returned one right back, and they looked at each other - 

Until Luis cleared his throat. “I’m gonna - go and see if they need any more help.” He grabbed the handle of the van door, but paused, and the teasing amusement on his face softened into something more sincere. “Happy for you guys,” He said, then waggled his eyebrows playfully at Jenna. “And it’s about damn time.” With that, he closed the door, and vanished from sight. 

They swapped sheepish looks, then burst into laughter. It was - good, necessary laughter, the kind that erupted and bubbled from their lips, the kind that they so direly needed after everything that had happened. Kurt scooted across the van to join her on her side, and sat next to her, and she squeezed his hand. 

They sat together in comfortable silence. They sat through the muffled sounds of cars zipping down the street and parking nearby, the rapid drumming of footsteps, the sound of heavy things being shuffled and loaded (Caleb presumably one such thing), and didn’t say anything until they heard the muffled sound of voices chattering and approaching the van. 

Jenna ordinarily wouldn’t have minded the company, but - she turned to look at Kurt. “How’d you get here, by the way?” 

He blinked, then smiled sheepishly. “Took your car. Hope you don’t mind.” 

She laughed. “Kurt, you zipped all the way down here to save my life. ‘Course I don’t mind. I was just thinking maybe we could take that, instead of the van. I think we’ve got some stuff to talk about, and I’d prefer to do it alone. Just you and me.” 

“Hopefully good stuff,” Kurt teased, but he nodded, and was more than happy to go along with her suggestion. 

“Great stuff,” She amended, and grinned. 

They climbed out of the van when the back door clunked open again, Jenna a little shaky and now sore as all hell but otherwise intact and okay, and she told Scott so, and repeated it to Hope when she was done speaking with the agents dressed ominously all in black (and varying shades of gray). 

They all chattered - Hope informed them where Caleb would be put (in some kind of underground jail facility specifically built for HYDRA and superpowered prisoners) and for how long (a very, very, very long time), but Jenna didn’t listen, because, to her, he was gone. And that was it. 

“We should go.” Hope looked at Scott. “My parents are going to want to hear this.” 

Scott nodded, then looked at the Wombats - and Jenna, who stood with them. “What’re you guys gonna do?” 

Dave and Luis exchanged looks, then Dave grinned. “We got a game to get back to, man. Got fifty bucks on the line, and I’m not gonna let the opportunity to fatten up my wallet pass me by.” 

Luis snorted, and ribbed him about being so certain he was going to win, but before it could devolve into one of their typical bickering blowouts, Scott looked at Kurt - and Jenna, and as he asked “What about you, man?” he took note of their interlocked hands.

Kurt looked at Jenna. “I think we are going to take long way home.”

Jenna grinned up at him, but then it diminished - turned into something relatively somber. “Hey, you guys -” Everyone looked at her and she burned with momentary self-consciousness but cleared her throat. “Thank you.” Her gaze swung around the little circle, from Luis, to Dave, to Scott, to Hope. She squeezed Kurt’s hand in lieu of looking at him. “Seriously. Thank you for being the best backup ever -” She flashed a grin at two of the three Wombats, who nodded and looked smugly delighted. “And thank you for kicking his ass for me.” Her smile ebbed and she looked at Scott and Hope. Scott bobbed his head and smiled - Hope gave a curt tip of hers. “And, if you don’t mind, could you thank your parents for me? For, you know, letting me crash there and - and stuff.” Hope’s face broke and her lips twitched into a smile, and she nodded. “Wish I could say more, but I kinda get wordy when I don’t know what else to say, and I’m at a loss for words right now which is kind of oxymoronic, I guess, since I’m still speaking but -”

“You and me, both,” Luis interrupted, and he tipped her a thumbs-up in solidarity. Jenna laughed and returned it. 

“Thanks for everything,” was what she finished with. 

They said their goodbyes, and split - Dave and Luis already beginning to squabble about whether or not they should just scrap the fight they’d paused and start all over again (whatever that meant), and Scott and Hope shrinking down to tiny blips and vanishing into the night. 

Jenna and Kurt walked to her car, hand-in-hand. They broke apart only to climb in - Jenna stiffly - and she flashed him a grin. “Hope you’re ready to talk up a storm, Goreshter.” 

“Never been more ready,” Kurt returned, and they shut their doors, and Jenna started the car, and, as she peeled out of the spot Kurt had hastily parked in, and rolled down her window to tip a brief wave to Luis behind her then grabbed the steering wheel again, he took her free hand in his own and she grinned at him. 

And, with that, they drove off, heading nowhere in particular, but their destination didn’t matter - so long as they were together. 


	15. Chapter 15

Whatever deities of luck and fortunate existed, they were on Jenna Perry's side today, for it was prime lunch hour, and yet she was still able to find a spot relatively close to the towering building that the X-Con Security Consultants called home. She parked in said spot, grinned victoriously, then reached for the big plastic bags on the passenger seat. She emerged into the bright, balmy air - it was nearing summer - with the bags in hand, so she shut the car door with her foot, and juggled the bags for a second while fumbling for her keys so she could actually lock it. After a few minutes of maneuvering, she was able to get the fob in hand and press the lock button, and her car beeped a cheerful goodbye as she worked to return her keys to her pocket and not drop the food in the bags. She headed towards the door that led to the stairs, climbed them, and arrived in the hallway that led to the MM&M law offices and, more importantly, X-Con. She peered through the window - Luis was chattering on the phone, Dave was tracing a series of routes on a map unfolded in his lap, Scott was hammering away at his computer, and Kurt was peeling one of the many sticky notes that lined the bottom of his computer and reading it.

Jenna grinned and nudged open the front door, her appearance announced by the tinkling of bells over the entryway. "Delivery for Kurt, Dave, Luis, and Scott," She said. "SF's best security consultants, formerly convicted but now committed - to stopping crime instead of committing it." She entered the room and brought with her a strong waft of hot food. 

Dave rose from his seat and shook his head in her direction in mock disappointment. "That was bad. Don't quit your day job."

She set the bags on one of the glass displays in the middle of the room and watched Dave paw through one of them. "Not planning on it," She returned with a laugh. "Got you some extra rangoons, by the way."

Dave looked up, his grin wide and sunny. "Alright!" He whooped, then went right back to hunting through the bags. 

Luis rose, and rounded his desk, and Scott stood, too, and they both gravitated towards the food like a flock of hungry pigeons. Jenna left them to it, and slipped around them to head to Kurt's desk, where he stood leaning against it, hands in his pockets. 

"I'm assuming you're the one who's going to pay me," She teased as she approached, giving him a playful, sunny grin. 

Kurt chuckled. "I'm afraid I don't have any money on me." He turned his pockets outwards to prove it, then gave her a feigned sympathetic grimace, playing along. 

She loved it when he played along, and so she frowned. "Damn. Well, I guess I'm just gonna have to take all of that food back." She paused, and pretended to think for a moment. "Actually, you're really cute. A kiss might just be enough to pay the tab _and_ the tip."

Kurt grinned, and the softness in that smile - in his eyes - melted her. He loved it the way she loved doing nonsensical little things like this. "Now that," He said. "I can afford. I just so happen to have surplus of them - all just for you."

Jenna's contemplative act broke and she smiled right back at him. "Yeah?" She stepped close and playfully tugged at the lapels of his jacket, tipping her head up, still grinning, and was about to say something else when Kurt leaned in, one of his hands snaking around her to press lightly against the small of her back, and stole a gentle kiss. 

The guys, having passed around their meals and now beginning to chow down, erupted into cheerful, raucous, teasing whistles and hoots, and Kurt broke the kiss to shoot them a dour, pointed look. "Children," He muttered under his breath.

Jenna laughed and gave his chest a pat. "Don't mind them." She grinned cheekily, speaking loudly so they would overhear. "They just can't handle PDA 'cause they're not getting any."

"Oooh, shit, gloves coming off now!" Luis grinned, speared a piece of orange chicken on a chopstick, and popped it into his mouth. 

"You want us to upcharge you on those services you're paying us for, Perry?" Dave tacked on with a raise of his brow. 

Jenna just snorted laughter and waved them off, and after Dave and Luis and Scott had settled back into their chairs, food in their laps or on their desks, she and Kurt retrieved their food and sat back down at his desk. Kurt pulled out a chair from Scott's desk - "Thank you for letting me constantly steal these," Jenna said, and he just waved a 'no problem' hand, mouth full of rice - and they sat close together, knees touching. 

Jenna held her bowl of sweet and sour shrimp in her lap and watched Kurt work his box open. He paused, and looked at her, brow raised. "What?" 

"Nothing." She bit back an eager little grin. It was a dumb thing to be excited about, for sure, but - she didn't care. "I got you a surprise, too." 

He opened his box, and peered inside. It was chow mein - his favorite - with dark soy sauce drizzled on top, and peppered with crunched-up crispy noodles; special touches that really made the meal. He chuckled and looked at her, touched that she'd remembered. "Thank you."

"No problem." Jenna grinned and took a bite of shrimp.

They ate, and talked, and listened to Dave and Luis and Scott talk, and swapped looks, and when Jenna polished off her meal and set her empty dish aside, something struck her like a bolt of lightning and she turned to Kurt, putting a hand on his arm. “Oh! I almost forgot. My boss - y’know, the woman you saw, like, once, I think - was super impressed with the work you did, and she wants you to be our go-to IT guy. She wants to draft up a contract and everything.” 

Kurt downed the last of his chow mein and looked at her with raised brows. “Really?”

“Don’t look so surprised, Goreshter,” Jenna said, and laughed, then nodded. “You’re the best computer whiz in town, and she knows it. What do you think?”

“I think if it means I get to come to studio for routine checkups and any other requested services and see you,” Kurt said, “Then it is done deal.” 

Jenna grinned. “Awesome.”

There were only a few minutes left in their lunch breaks, so sooner rather than later Jenna had to head back to work, and rose reluctantly from her chair. She tucked it back into Scott’s desk, waved goodbye to the rest of the X-Cons, and headed to the door with Kurt, who wanted to walk her out. 

Instead of saying goodbye there, they walked out of the building, down the steps, and onto the bustling sidewalk together. She turned to him, about to make some kind of parting quip, when suddenly he took her face in his hands and tipped her head up and cocked his down and pressed his lips to hers. It was a brief, but firm, kiss, and one that made her eyes initially widen in surprise then flutter shut in delight, and pulled a pleasant, throaty humming sound from her chest, and when he pulled away, she looked flushed - but was grinning like an idiot. “That was quite the goodbye," She managed. 

Kurt smiled, and let his thumb tuck a lock of hair behind her ear before dropping his hands, and stuffing them back into his pockets. “I wanted to do that earlier, but guys are...children,” He repeated, and shook his head wearily.

Jenna laughed and patted him on the arm. “Congrats, then, father of three.” She paused, and her hand lingered. She looked up at him with a query in her eyes. “Also, we still on for tonight? ‘Cause I was thinking we could get some more delivery, pop open a new bottle of cider, watch some TV...and do some more smooching, definitely, ‘cause that was nice.”

Kurt laughed and nodded. “Absolutely. That sounds great.” That was an understatement. “I’ll be at your place after work.” 

Jenna thrilled at that, and returned his nod. 

They stood there for a moment, smiling at each other - until Jenna’s phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out, and saw the time, and cursed. “Shit. I’m late. Again.” She grimaced deeply. “I….really gotta go. I’ll see you later!” She backed up, and lifted a hand to wave, then bumped into a row of mailboxes and bounced off of them and grimaced and Kurt looked at her, head cocked, brows raised, and she waved him off ‘cause she was fine, no big deal. 

She backed up, tipped him a two-fingered salute, then turned and quickly hustled off, disappearing into the crowd. Kurt watched her go with an amused smile on his face, then he turned to head back into the building, trek back up the stairs, and return to work. 

As Jenna climbed into her car, and as Kurt sat back down at his desk, they were both sporting grins. Soft, sweet, happy grins reflective of the lightness of their hearts. 

And neither of them could wait for that evening. 


End file.
